Creation of a Spirit
by HSnape
Summary: What would have happened had Hermione not become friends with Harry and Ron?
1. In the Beginning

He always hated the first days of classes. Every year was the same: fifty or so snot nosed little brats who thought they knew everything. They thought they were Merlin's gift to everyone, and it was his job to knock them down to their level, to where he thought they should be: serfs. To inspire fear in the hearts of students was one of his greatest pleasures. However, as with every professor, there were students he favoured over others, giving them preference, ignoring their rule-breaking and allowing much more leniency. These students were the purebloods. Slytherins; his own house, of course. He found them to be the most intelligent of the school's young witches and wizards, rarely giving him trouble and praising him to their influential parents. It wasn't to say that he himself had no influence; in fact, he'd been quite a powerful asset to the Dark Lord in his younger years. However, something unknown and unforeseen occurred deep within the depths of his brain, rendering him useless to the Dark Lord. He could no longer search out and eliminate Muggles the way he could before, and was less capable in aiding the Dark Lord, so he was dismissed. Out of work and alone (as usual) for several months, until he finally broke down and applied for a teaching position as a Potions professor at his alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He received it immediately. No one else had wanted it. Potions had always been his specialty when he was a student, but, he thought, if he could choose what he wanted to teach, it would be Defence Against the Dark Arts. He could teach those little brats things that would make their hair curl. He smiled his cruel, yellow-toothed smile at this thought. The Dark Lord would have been very pleased.  
  
"Would have" was the unfortunate part. When the Dark Lord learned of his new position teaching in a school full of half-breeds and mudbloods, he had flown into a rage, threatening him and everyone he cared about. He didn't care about anyone; it wasn't frightening to him. He shut himself off from the world, leading everyone away from his life. That was fine with him. He didn't need anyone else. The Dark Lord had let him go, miraculously, threatening his death if they ever crossed paths again. He cared naught for this threat. Death would be sweet release. Remove him from this life of teaching the idiotic children of Muggles and half-breeds, who didn't understand the intricacies of potions making, who would rather give their wands a wave than spend their precious Quidditch time making potions. Abandoning his earlier smile, he scowled angrily.  
  
---  
  
They had heard that Professor Snape was one of the hardest professors in the entire school. Of course, this had been heard from the Weasley twins, who'd told everyone that the Sorting ceremony was painful. They figured that it was an exaggeration, that he really couldn't be so bad as Professor McGonagall. Having already had their first two Transfiguration classes, they were dead scared of her and her attitude with them. Potions was their last class on Fridays, directly after Charms. They liked Professor Flitwick: a small, bearded cheerful man totally devoted and in love with his work. He could tell anyone about anything; a very well- educated wizard. But that was not their concern at the moment. They wanted to find out definitely if the rumours were true; if Professor Snape truly was the hardest professor in the school.  
  
Still talking amongst themselves about the events of the past week, they entered the dank Potions dungeon, which, to them, smelled of mould and filthy socks. They wrinkled their noses in unison and eyed each other. This was where they had to take Potions in the coming years? It was a gloomy prospect.  
  
Sitting down, they saw the same reactions on the faces of the people they recognized, some housemates and others merely classmates. Looking closer, they saw Hermione Granger studying the text intently. Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. That girl was too much.  
  
Hermione sat engrossed in her text until she felt someone looking at her. The two boys she'd met on the train were staring in her direction. She gave them a small smile and returned to her studies. She'd been studying ever since she got her letter. Being Muggle-born, she felt the overwhelming need to prove herself in the wizarding world. For days upon days, she studied, ignoring the fleeting sunny days in London, learning all about standard spells, potions and transfiguration. She'd always been at the top of all of her classes in grammar school, and she could never imagine anything different. She had forsaken her already lacking social life, if one could go so far as to describe it as such, to study for her entrance to Hogwarts. She'd already memorized her books and perfected her spells. She no longer needed to read.  
  
She'd hoped against hope that she would have friends here. It wasn't that she didn't like spending time alone; no, she'd come to like it in her years. But she was coming to a new place, a new stage of her life in which she needed people to be close to. She wanted to be able to still study hard, but also have people to talk to, people to have fun with, and people to commiserate with when things got rough. She shook her head. 'That's a silly wish, 'Mione,' she chided herself. 'People like that will only keep you from accomplishing your goals. You know that.' She did indeed, but a part of her wanted to ignore that, to strive for friendships in this new place. She again buried her head in her book, staring at the text she'd already memorized. Having no friends, her textbooks passed her time.  
  
---  
  
A door slammed, and, startled, the heads of every student in the room whipped around to see what was the cause of this. A gaunt man with sallow skin and sunken, angry eyes walked forth, disregarding the interested stares of the students. His hair was a disgustingly greasy, matted black mass, and when he opened his mouth, he revealed stained teeth, some with pointed ends that resembled the fangs of a vampire. His eyes flashed with inherent anger, and he held himself in a very hostile position, crossing his arms across his chest, keeping the world at bay.  
  
"There will be no foolish wand waving in this class," he began, in a voice as greasy as his hair and angry as his eyes. "As such, I do not expect that many of you will appreciate the exact art that is potions making. But for those select few." Here he shot a knowing look to a boy known to them as snobby Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin who was every bit as greasy as Professor Snape seemed. Harry and Ron shot irritated looks at each other and then at Malfoy. He returned their glares with a look of superiority.  
  
Professor Snape resumed his speech. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." He noticed one bushy-haired girl taking down everything he said. He sent a scowl of deep hatred and disdain her way.  
  
"Miss Granger!" he barked in his unctuous voice. "Miss Granger, dare I ask why you've copied down every word I've said?"  
  
Hermione blushed furiously. She didn't know what to say. Admitting this would garner nothing but hatred from Professor Snape and the students, with whom she was trying to curry favor. On the other hand, she didn't know if she could lie to a teacher. She couldn't even lie to her parents, much less someone whom she respected as much as a teacher.  
  
"Well, Miss Granger? Do you speak, or will we have to find out another way?" he sneered.  
  
She gathered up all of her courage and replied in a meek voice, "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just very interested in this subject."  
  
Taken aback, Professor Snape's look changed from anger to surprise and back to anger in less than 10 seconds.  
  
"Very well, Miss Granger. It will be in your best interests to pay attention in this class..." He paused momentarily, and continued with, "..and that includes the rest of you." His eyes shot fiery daggers about the classroom.  
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other nervously. If the first day of Potions was this intense, what would the rest of the year be like?  
  
---  
  
Back in the common room after dinner, all of the first years were discussing classes, save for Hermione. She was holed up in her dormitory studying the books she'd memorized. She longed desperately to join, but she didn't know how. Now was one of those times when she wished she hadn't spent her life studying and became socially adept. She sighed and returned to her standard book of spells.  
  
Not surprisingly, no one missed the presence of Hermione. Their loud chatter about class left them little time to think about her, if they even cared. Even Ron and Harry pushed her out of their minds. She was too studious to ever become a part of their lives. However, soon, the conversation turned to her.  
  
"D'you know that Hermione girl?" asked a redheaded Irish boy named Seamus Finnigan.  
  
Ron and Harry mumbled affirmatives, and Seamus pressed on.  
  
"Whaddaya think?"  
  
They looked at each other and Ron motioned for Harry to answer. Harry glared at Ron, but proceeded to speak. "She seems to be too much to handle," Harry mumbled. "She's really in your face and a know it all. Bet she's never had friends."  
  
Seamus laughed, a loud raucous laugh that caught the attention of most in the room. "I agree. Wonder if she ever will?"  
  
---  
  
Unbeknownst to the boys, Hermione had been standing at the foot of the staircase to the girls dormitories for the duration of their conversation about her. She'd heard a lot of cruel things that people had said about her in grammar school, but these things hurt her much more than the rest had. She already had people talking about her, and it had only been six days since they'd arrived. Tears formed in her eyes, and, instead of going back up the stairs, she sat down. She rested her head in her hands and let the tears flow freely down her face.  
  
None of the boys saw this. Seamus and Ron were talking about Quidditch, with Harry, Neville and Dean listening intently. Dean, being Muggle-born, only knew of soccer, and was trying to learn the ins and outs of Quidditch. Harry didn't even know soccer, he'd been so.sheltered wasn't even the word. Hidden, maybe, but he thought repressed described it better. Neville had never been allowed to fly, and Harry and Dean secretly thought that this was the best thing, because he was so accident prone on the ground that they didn't even want to think what would happen if he took to the air. At a pause in the conversation, Seamus thought he caught movement on the stairs out of the corner of his eye and turned to look. Seeing Hermione on the stairs, he turned back to the group, raised his eyebrows, and motioned with his head to the stairwell. The boys turned around and saw Hermione crying. Harry automatically felt incredibly guilty. He turned back to the group and quietly told them that he was going to apologize. Ron and Seamus raised their eyebrows in unison, questioning his decision. Harry shook his head at them and walked towards the stairs.  
  
"Hermione?" he asked quietly.  
  
She didn't answer, so he repeated himself. "Hermione?"  
  
"I heard you," she sniffled.  
  
"I want to apologise for the things we said to you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it was cruel of us. We don't know you, and therefore we don't have any right to say that about you."  
  
Hermione lifted her head at this, her teary eyes flashing angrily. "Do you think that this will automatically make me forgive you, and everything will go on like nothing had happened? Because if you do, you're wrong."  
  
"I never said anything like that," he countered. "I just thought that what we said was cruel and I wanted to apologise."  
  
"Would you have apologised if I hadn't heard you?"  
  
Harry was cornered. He wouldn't have told her, and she knew it. "If I say yes, then I'm a liar. If I say no, I'm a jerk. I'll be honest with you: no, I wouldn't have apologised if you hadn't heard. If my attempt to be nice doesn't make you happy or respect me any more, then so be it. I'm finished." With that, he turned around and walked back to the group, who pretended that they hadn't been listening.  
  
"So.?" Ron asked somewhat eagerly. The rest of the group had their eyes on Harry, interested in what he was going to say.  
  
"I told her we were sorry, and she asked if I would have apologised if she hadn't heard it. I was honest and told her no, and she got really angry. But I understand why," he paused, "I'd be angry too."  
  
The guys nodded, and Seamus said somewhat timidly, "At least we're rid of her." The tension was broken and the guys were laughing again.  
  
---  
  
Hermione retreated once more to the girls dormitories.  
  
"I don't need them!" she raged. "I'll be much better off without them!"  
  
She turned to her books again and, looking at them more closely, shoved them off her desk. She didn't want to read anymore. Instead, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks on her sheets, pulled on a sweater, and nearly flew down the stairs. She ran through the common room, not looking at anyone as she left. She climbed through the portrait hole, and, upon finding herself alone in the corridors, she ran. Here she felt free, far from the pressures of studying and the cruelty of the other students.  
  
She soon reached a staircase that she didn't recognize. She paused a moment, and finally decided to take it. The stairs were much wider and higher than any of the staircases she'd climbed so far at Hogwarts. She soon reached a landing with a shining gold statue on it. She saw an engraved plate upon the pedestal, and, upon leading forward to read it, she found that it was the likeness of Salazar Slytherin. Straightening up, she heard someone coming closer. She began walking away quickly, when the person called out to her.  
  
"Hey! You! What are you doing over here?" said the male voice.  
  
Hermione turned around innocently. Immediately she recognized the blond boy who'd told Harry that some wizarding families were better than others. Draco Malfoy, she thought. He's already curried the favor of Professor Snape, the only one she hadn't. An interesting thought occurred to her, but she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. "I'm walking; at least that's what I seem to be doing. But the verdict's still out. You never know. What do you think I'm doing?" she shot back sarcastically. The moment those words left her mouth, she wondered where they'd come from. She'd always been meek and quiet; sarcasm wasn't something that came naturally to her.  
  
Malfoy was taken aback. This girl, who looked like such a wimp, smarting off to him? He wouldn't stand for it.  
  
"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" he countered.  
  
"I'm pissed off is what I am," she said, surprised at her frankness.  
  
"Since when do I care how you are? I asked who you were."  
  
She paused, and then figured there was no harm in telling him. "Hermione Granger.  
  
"What are you doing over here?"  
  
"We've established this already, don't you remember?"  
  
He liked this girl, even though she smarted off to him. Not submissive.but not overly dominant either. The sarcasm from such a pristine girl surprised him.  
  
"I've told you who I am, and I know who you are. Now, what are you doing out here?" Hermione asked aggressively.  
  
"This is where I live, stupid."  
  
Hermione took pause. This was the entrance to the Slytherin house? Hmm, she pondered. This could be handy for her. She shot him a cold smile. "Maybe you could come in useful to me," she said wickedly.  
  
"Why would I want to help you, dirty little Mudblood?"  
  
She'd already heard it, and heard it much more than enough from him. "I'm sick of that. I'm sick of the Gryffindors. They put on a pristine façade, but are dirty liars on the inside. You being a Slytherin, it would be only natural for you to be cruel to them. If I were to do it, it wouldn't be 'right.' You could do something horrible to them." A demonic grin spread across her face.  
  
Draco liked the way she thought. A Gryffindor who hated her fellow housemates? He'd never have expected it of the girl who was such a goody two-shoes. He returned her wicked look with one of his own. "Maybe I could be of service. What will you do for me?"  
  
She paused. She didn't know that quite yet, and she said so to him. She continued, "But if you make their lives a living hell, we'll come up with something." Smiling that wicked grin again, she continued, "I'd prefer you focus on Ron Weasley and Harry Potter." Turning around, she started to head back to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Wait."  
  
She turned around and put her hands on her hips. "What?"  
  
"You want for me to just give them a hard time, or be more." he paused, and then continued, ".violent?"  
  
"I don't care. Whatever you want. It would be less obvious if you weren't nice to me. Throw me a few insults, like the Mudblood comments, and it'll be believable. We'll talk later."  
  
She turned around again and left. She was shocked at the way she'd acted. She'd never been so cruelly confident in her life. 'Those jerks will never guess that I was the crucial part of this equation, the one who was instrumental in ruining their lives. They messed with me, and now I'm messing with them. They're in for some fun.' She was still shocked at her audacity, even in her thoughts. She was changing, and she liked it.  
  
  
  
Hope you're enjoying. ( This is my first one in about a year, so excuse any of the oddities. Heather (my beta) RULES! **Lauren 


	2. An Exercise in Forgiveness

Hermione didn't come back to Gryffindor that night. Instead, she wandered aimlessly about the castle, pondering her newly chosen path. It was cruel, she knew, but people had been so cruel to her, and apparently she had quite a bit of pent-up rage. It was a change from her usual holier-than-thou attitude to one of secret disobedience and anger. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, her short travels brought her back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She recited the password and climbed through, suddenly exhausted. She sat down in an overstuffed red chair in front of the fire, intending to go up to the girls dormitories in a moment, but within five minutes she was asleep. The warm fire and the soft chair comforted her and lulled her into a sweet dreamless sleep.  
  
---  
  
Finally wandering down to the common room around 11 that Saturday morning, Ron and Harry found Hermione fast sleep in front of the fire. They cast sidelong glances in her direction and continued out to the Great Hall for breakfast. They'd missed it completely; lunch was already on peoples' plates. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, next to Seamus, Dean and Neville, and three of Ron's brothers were down the way just a bit. Harry couldn't believe how many Weasleys there were. Ron had told him that he had five older brothers and one younger sister, which confounded Harry. How could anyone live with that many people? He went crazy with just Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley; what would happen if he lived with eight other people? When Ron had first told him this, Harry thought that his family must be Catholic. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, both Lutherans, always made fun of the uncharacteristically large Catholic families. Harry had always rolled his eyes, but now he'd smiled a few times thinking about it. They probably didn't even know what Catholic was. He smiled and then glanced at his plate, suddenly ravenous.  
  
Everyone had seem Hermione sleeping in the chair as they left Gryffindor tower, and they were eager to talk about it.  
  
"Where do you suppose she went last night?" asked Dean. "D'you think she was upset or angry?"  
  
"I'd say angry," Ron replied. "Didja see the look in her eyes? She looked like she was about to throttle somebody."  
  
The rest nodded, with Neville adding in an uncharacteristic moment of confidence, "D'you suppose she even came back last night?"  
  
None of them had thought of that; they'd all just assumed that she'd gotten back late and didn't want to wake any of the girls in the dormitory. Now they had something new to ponder about Hermione. She was a know-it-all, but was she a rule-breaker too? They knew that students were strictly forbidden to be out of their bed, much less houses, after dark. They all thought about it for a moment, and then resumed talking about Quidditch.  
  
---  
  
Hermione awoke with a start in front of the fire. She wondered how long she'd been asleep for, and upon looking at the clock, she saw that it was nearly one in the afternoon. Seeing as she'd returned at nearly five, she'd gotten a full night's sleep all throughout the morning. She went up to her dormitory to change her clothes before she went to get lunch from the Great Hall, and when she got there, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patel were sitting on the floor and chatting. She walked in, and they both gave her interested looks.  
  
"Where did you go last night?" Parvati asked.  
  
"Out," she answered simply.  
  
"You're not supposed to go out after dark," Lavender said.  
  
"What do I care?"  
  
Parvati and Lavender were shocked. This whole week, Hermione had seemed so studious and holier-than-thou, and now she's being a scofflaw? They found that to be rather bizarre.  
  
Trying another angle, Lavender asked, "Why did you go out?"  
  
"Do you really think that's your business?"  
  
Parvati and Lavender looked at Hermione with expressions of great surprise.  
  
"What? Do you think I don't like to go out and have some fun?" she replied shortly. "I'm human too." Giving them looks of great disdain, she walked over to the armoire, grabbed a new sweater, pulled it over her head, and left again.  
  
'Who do they think they are?' she thought, irritated. 'It's my business as to where I was last night. If I felt that it was necessary for them to know, I would have told them. Just because I came off as quiet and intelligent doesn't mean I can't do anything "out of character."'  
  
She climbed out of the portrait hole and took the shortcut she'd found to the Great Hall, arriving in less than five minutes. She saw the rest of the Gryffindors at their table, and when they saw her, their eyes widened. She turned her eyes away from them and sat at the end of the table. She didn't want to deal with the questions that she was certain they would ask. Looking at her plate, it filled with food. She was starving. As she'd been asleep through breakfast, she ate greedily, emptying her plate quickly. She washed it all down with a cool glass of pumpkin juice, and then left without looking back.  
  
Walking back, she ran into Malfoy. He was with a group of his Slytherin friends, and he said loudly to his friends, "Dirty Mudbloods, ruining this school." Hermione pretended to be hurt, and quickly walked away, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to show her distress. When she was sure they couldn't see her anymore, a small, evil smile crossed her face. She knew that Malfoy would do and say much worse to Ron and Harry. Just what she wanted.  
  
---  
  
Ron and Harry were walking a bit behind Hermione, and they heard Malfoy call her a Mudblood. Harry had never heard the term, and so he asked Ron what it meant. When Ron explained it, Harry was shocked. No one deserved to be called that, not even Hermione Granger, whom they couldn't stand.  
  
As they walked by Malfoy, they shot him dirty looks, which he returned with the caustic comment, "Defending your Mudblood girlfriend? You two are no better." Looking at Ron, he continued, "You should be ashamed of your family, the way your father loves Muggles. You know, he'd be in a much higher position if he just came to his senses. He could make more money, and from the looks of your clothes, your family could use it." Looking back at Harry, he continued, "And you.you would be better off staying in the Muggle world. You have no wizarding talent, and the fact that you're with these Muggles and Muggle-lovers makes you even worse. You truly have been the downfall of the wizarding world: had you died when Voldemort tried to kill you, everything would be much different and much better, if just for not having you in the world." He paused, and then shot Harry the most piercing evil glare that he could muster. If looks could kill, neither Harry nor Ron would still be standing. Draco looked away and motioned for his group to leave. They all walked away in silence.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other with blank stares.  
  
"Is he like this with everyone?" Harry asked Ron, who shook his head confusedly.  
  
"I have no idea, but he seems to be a jerk to the Gryffindors in particular. Apparently all of us have done him some personal disservice and he's trying to get revenge." Ron gritted his teeth and set his mouth into a thin line, bitter about Malfoy's comments about his family. He didn't want to talk about it with Harry, though; Harry was better off than his whole family, and he was only eleven years old. Harry couldn't possibly understand what it was like to have to wear second-hand robes, use books that probably ten people had used before him, deal with Scabbers as a magical animal, and many more things that he didn't even want to think of right then.  
  
He must have looked like he was truly out in space, and Harry said so.  
  
"Are you okay, Ron? You seem pretty out there right now," Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah. Fine," Ron replied, still irritated with Malfoy. "Let's go."  
  
---  
  
When she returned to the common room, Hermione opened her Potions book and began writing down ingredients in a forgetfulness potion. Whenever she wrote things down, she repeated them quietly to herself, embedding them in her brain forever. She didn't even need to write them down from the book; she could have done it from memory, but she wanted to give the illusion that she was truly studying and for people to leave her alone. The silence was welcoming to her. Apparently everyone else was studying or was elsewhere in the castle.  
  
After she'd finished writing the ingredients, she kept her book open and her quill in hand. If anyone came upon her, they'd assume she was studying and not bother her. Exactly what she wanted. She needed to think about how she was going to repay Malfoy for his evil services.  
  
'I could.no, that wouldn't be appropriate,' she thought. 'What about.hmm. What if I were to give him inside information on the Gryffindors so he could use it to his advantage? I wonder how he would take that.' She smiled to herself and her thoughts continued in the same vein. 'I wonder if I could slowly infiltrate myself into their group...becoming close to them, finding things out, and then reporting to Draco and letting him use the information against them?' She paused. 'That's probably the best idea you've ever had, Hermione.' Her wicked smile spread across her face. She loved the person she was becoming.  
  
---  
  
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin house, Malfoy was also thinking about Hermione. He liked the way this girl was turning against her fellow Gryffindors and fraternizing with "the enemy." He truly hated the Gryffindors. His dark eyes flashed at the prospect of torturing them. Crabbe and Goyle saw Draco thinking, and they wondered what it was about. They fixed their dumb eyes upon him, as deep in thought as their small brains could handle.  
  
When he felt their eyes upon him, Draco whirled around.  
  
"What do you two lugs think you're doing?" he said sharply.  
  
"What are you doing?" Crabbe ventured timidly.  
  
"Nothing of your business, Crabbe," he paused, "nor yours, Goyle." Rethinking, he pursed his lips. Crabbe and Goyle could be of help to him in this endeavour.  
  
"Maybe it is your business," he said unctuously, not unlike the tone of Professor Snape. "Maybe you could be of service to me. I've a source who gives me information. This source asks me to lay some pain upon the Gryffindors, and I think you might be able to help me with that. I've two Gryffindors in particular that this source has asked me to target, and they are easy targets indeed. One Ron Weasley and another Harry Potter. Those two, the Muggle-lover and the praised one, deserve it much more than anyone else. If you see them, torment them to the best of your idiotic abilities." He shot them an evil smile and continued, "I expect you to do this. There will be severe consequences if I see or hear that it isn't done."  
  
All the while, Crabbe and Goyle had been nodding like the idiots they were. They idolized Draco. He was truly their Merlin. Anything he asked, they would do, no questions asked. Their brains didn't quite overflow with intellect or morals, so they worked well as pawns in Draco's personal game of chess, in which he worked as the Queen, moving whichever way he wanted, torturing people brutally, and protecting one person: Voldemort. Voldemort was his king.  
  
Shooting them his dark smile again, he nodded. "Good."  
  
---  
  
Again in the common room, Hermione sat alone with her Potions book. She heard the portrait swing open, and she turned her head to see who it was. 'Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,' she thought greedily. 'They're mine.'  
  
She rose from her place in the soft armchair and looked at them with soft eyes. "Can I speak with you two for a moment?"  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders and Harry nodded his head in agreement. "Sure." They walked over to the area in front of the fire and took seats in the armchairs facing Hermione.  
  
"I think I acted a bit harshly last night," she began. "I'd like to apologise for being so rash."  
  
Both of the boys raised their eyebrows at her.  
  
"I know," she said. "I should have accepted your apology when you offered it. The thing is that I've been teased my whole life and I've never really had any close friends. I was hoping that when I came here, I would have friends. The things you said really hurt my feelings and crushed my ideals. I'd hoped people would see me for more than my intellectual personality."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione stopped him.  
  
"You don't have to apologise again. I'd like to forgive you and become your friend, if you'll let me," she said in a faux-pleading voice.  
  
The boys looked at each other and shrugged. She seemed nice enough. They nodded. "Sure," they said in unison. She couldn't be that bad. She could always be of help to them when they didn't understand their.Potions work, as they saw her studying from her book.  
  
Hermione smiled at them. Only this time, it wasn't a wicked smile: it was one of delight. She was delighted in the fact that she would have "friends," and also that she'd be able to pass information to Draco, both for his and her benefits, for them to be tormented for what they'd done to her. She didn't give up easily.  
  
"So.Hermione." Ron began, feeling awkward. "I'm really sorry that we said all that stuff to you last night. It was really unkind."  
  
"Stop apologising. I said I forgave you, and I don't want to have to change my mind because you've apologised every five minutes," she snapped back. 'That probably wasn't the best way to start off,' she thought. 'Really smart, Hermione.' "Sorry," she said. "I guess I'm still a bit touchy."  
  
She gave them another smile, this one apologetic.  
  
"So." she began awkwardly. "What did you think of classes this week?"  
  
They groaned. Ron took initiative and spoke.  
  
"McGonagall and Snape are going to be awful," he complained. "If this was the way they treated us within the first week, I don't even want to think about the rest of the year. Plus, the Potions dungeon smells like feet. It's gross."  
  
Harry added, "But I like Professor Flitwick. Charms is going to be fun, I hope."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows at both of their comments. "I think all of the classes are going to be challenging. But that's good, isn't it? We'll never learn anything if the classes are too easy."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Learning's good enough, I guess.but I don't know how well I'll do."  
  
Hermione laughed, a giggle that tinkled like small bells, and said, "I'll help you, silly. Isn't that what friends are for?" Her grin spread wider across her face, and she looked into the eyes of the two boys, who were nodding and smiling at her too.  
  
---  
  
Hermione finally told Ron and Harry that she needed to study for Charms, and climbed up the short spiral staircase to the girls dormitories. She opened the door, and again she found Parvati and Lavender sitting on the ground. Again they stopped talking when she entered the room, and this time she said, "Can you be any more juvenile? If you're talking about me, I don't see why it can't be in my presence. If you're not, I'm human too. I have ears. Sometimes I like to talk to people too, but most of the time I like to talk to myself."  
  
They stared at her with strange looks on their faces.  
  
"Come on, girls. It's a joke," Hermione said, a small smile crossing her face. They rolled their eyes.  
  
"Well, I don't really care if you talk to me or not. I just thought I'd make an effort to be nice to you, since we'll be living in the same dormitory for the next seven years, and I want for it to be pleasant. I suppose you're not going to accept my efforts." She turned and walked over to her bed, sitting down and closing the curtains around her four-poster. She took out the journal she'd kept since she was nine, and grabbed a quill.  
  
'Log: September sixth I've met some interesting people here at Hogwarts. Some like me, some don't. I guess that's the way it is at all schools. I think it's going better here than it ever did in grammar school. I've already made two friends, which is more than I can say for just about my whole life. Classes are going to be hard, but I like it that way. I'd rather things be difficult and challenge me, than have them be too easy and bore me. I'll learn a lot while I'm here, and I hope to become a good witch. People tell me I have a natural talent. I find that out of the ordinary because I'm Muggle-born. I never had any magical training, and both of my parents are dentists. I don't know where it came from. On another subject, I've also met some evil people. Draco Malfoy, for instance, is quite the cruel one. He teases people mercilessly, but he's a Slytherin. I suppose that's just what they do. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm really changing. I'm no longer the "good girl" Hermione that I used to be, and it's just a week into school. I'm turning into someone more wicked than pure, and sinful rather than holy. It's a horrible thing to say, but I like it. It's a wonderful, refreshing change from having to live uprightly and be a perfect person. Now, I'm in cahoots with Malfoy. I've already been teased by the people I've just made "friends" with, and they truly hurt me. Their words were cruel, and their apologies forced. Last night I went wandering about the castle, and I took a path I'd never been down. As it turned out, it was the entrance to the Slytherin house. There, I officially met Draco Malfoy. I'd only seen him in Potions, being favoured by Professor Snape. I told him my feelings about the people in Gryffindor, and asked if he could do me a favour. He's helping me out with some things, and I'll be helping him with others. So far, things seem to be going well. Maybe I'll also be able to talk him into helping me curry the favor of Professor Snape. I've already won over the rest of the teachers with my zeal to learn, but he seems to be the hardest to get through to. With everyone but Draco, I put on the façade of being the perfect little girl, the overzealous, overachieving Muggle-born girl. With Draco, I can be my new self. I can show my new, dark colours, and he appreciates them. I've decided to infiltrate myself into the groups of the Gryffindors, learn about them, and become their "friends." Playing nice will get me places with these people, as kindness is one of their main virtues. Learning things about them will help me work against them. I almost can't believe how I'm changing. It's going from one extreme to the other. There really isn't an in-between with me. I like it. Good Girl Hermione is just a front. Bad Girl Hermione only comes out at night. Some day, I might have to reveal my new self to the Gryffindors. Maybe not. They don't deserve to know these things about me. They're not my type of people anymore. I was excited when I was sorted into this house, but now I wish I'd been a Slytherin. I wish I could be with people who are like the new me. More later, the curtains are shaking. 'Mione.'  
  
The curtains were indeed shaking, so she opened them. She found Parvati and Lavender to be standing outside of her bed, hoping that Hermione would talk to them. She raised her eyebrows, silently questioning them.  
  
"We're sorry. We'd like to become your friends too," Parvati said quietly.  
  
Lavender added, "Since we're going to be living together for the next seven years, we decided that we want to get along with you and become close. It would be difficult to live with anyone for that long if you didn't like them. Truce?"  
  
Hermione smiled her small smile again, and replied, "Truce. Want to go sit in the common room and talk?"  
  
The girls nodded, and the three of them set off to become better acquainted.  
  
---  
  
Harry and Ron walked up the steps to the boys dormitories, talking quietly.  
  
"Why d'you think she automatically wanted to be our friend?" Ron asked.  
  
"I don't know," answered Harry. "She said she was a bit too harsh last night.."  
  
"I know what she said, I was there!"  
  
"..and maybe this is her way of apologising."  
  
"Duh, she said that herself!"  
  
Harry shot daggers Ron's way.  
  
"Sorry. You don't need to restate the obvious. I was there." He shrugged and continued up the stairs, opening the door when he reached it. He held it for Harry, and they both went into the first-year boys' dormitories.  
  
Seamus, Dean and Neville were already there, working on their Potions homework. When they heard Harry and Ron come in, they paused. Looking up at them, their faces showed that they had some sort of secret. The nervously set mouths, and the eyes avoiding theirs made their faces suspect.  
  
"What's going on?" Seamus asked suspiciously.  
  
"Nothing, nothing really," Harry replied quickly. "I'm, uh, I'm going to do my Transfiguration homework now."  
  
"No you're not, what's going on?" Seamus said again.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other, and Harry motioned for Ron to field this question. He gave Harry the same type of look that he himself had been given earlier.  
  
"Fine. We came in from lunch and we saw Hermione sitting in front of the fire. She stood up and asked us to come and talk to her. She apologised for being so harsh last night, and she said she wanted to be our friend. We figured there really wasn't any harm in it, because she's smart. She can always help us with our homework. She's nice enough, too. I think we might turn out to like her."  
  
Seamus raised his eyebrows, looking at Dean and Neville. They pondered this quietly for a moment, and then Seamus, apparently their ringleader, said to Ron, "Okay. But only if she doesn't become a know it all like she's been."  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other, not knowing whether that would happen or not. She seemed pretty self-righteous.  
  
'Oh well,' Ron thought. 'We might grow to like her.'  
  
---  
  
In the common room, Lavender, Parvati and Hermione were talking rapidly, exchanging information about themselves and learning about the others. It turned out that they were actually quite alike. Both Lavender and Hermione were from Muggle families. Parvati's mother was a witch, and her father was a Muggle. She had a twin, Padma, and she was from East Germany. Hermione'd lived in London all her life, was an only child, and was Muggle born, as she was sure they both knew. Lavender lived in Surrey, and had three sisters. Two of them were older, and one two years younger. When Lavender got her letter, all of her sisters were jealous. The two older ones, Violet and Rose, wished that they'd gotten letters, and the younger one, Regina, hoped she would get a letter when she turned 11 in two years. Her parents were so proud of her, as Hermione's were.  
  
"So when I got my letter," Hermione said excitedly, "my parents were shocked. They never knew that there was a wizarding school anywhere, much less here in England. They were so proud of me, though. They took me right to Diagon Alley, once we figured out where it was, and got all of my school supplies. I stocked up on books, too, so I could study before I got here. I wanted to make sure that I knew what I was doing, so people didn't think I was just a stupid Muggle."  
  
Hermione was amazed at herself, telling these two girls more about herself than she'd ever wanted to.  
  
'You know you're not going to become attached to these silly people,' she cautioned herself. 'You'd better take heed in what you're telling them. Their knowledge of you could be used against you, just as your knowledge of them will be used against them. '  
  
She pasted a small, fake smile onto her face and said, "I loved talking to you. I think I'm going to take a walk about the castle and get myself acquainted with the place. When I get back, we need to finish our conversation!"  
  
Her faux-excited tone fooled Parvati and Lavender. They smiled, and Lavender said, "It's been great getting to know you. Have fun."  
  
Hermione left the common room with the two other girls looking after her.  
  
"That girl is strange," Parvati said in a perplexed voice. "One minute she's cranky, and the next she's friendly."  
  
"Maybe she's just adjusting," Lavender suggested. "She said she'd never really had friends. She probably doesn't know how to make them."  
  
Parvati nodded slowly. "That's probably it."  
  
---  
  
Once Hermione had lost sight of Gryffindor tower, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 'You need to stop talking so much about yourself,' she chided herself. 'Being aloof is better for your purposes at this school.' She nodded to no one, and continued walking. She hoped to run into Draco, so they could discuss his payment for tormenting Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors.  
  
She was in luck. Seeing him coming down the corridor from the Slytherin house with his two ugly, stupid cronies, she tried to motion to him with her eyes and a slight sideways nod of her head. He caught it, and returned it by quickly jerking his head upward.  
  
"I want for you two to go out and find those Gryffindors. Do whatever you want to them, but if I hear that you went easy on them, you know what I'll do," he said in his usual slick voice.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, nodded, and set off in the direction of the Great Hall.  
  
Once they were out of sight and earshot, Draco turned to Hermione.  
  
"What do you want?" he said sharply, quietly.  
  
"If you don't mind," she snapped in return, "I have a way of repaying you for your 'services.'"  
  
"And what might it be?"  
  
"Well, if you'd listen to me, you'd find out."  
  
He shot her one of his trademark dirty looks and nodded to her. "Talk, then."  
  
**  
  
Just a note from me to you.sorry it took forever for me to update. I went home for a week and forgot to bring my disk with me. Duh, Lauren. Also, I want to apologise for possibly offending anyone with my comments about large Catholic families. I'm Catholic myself, so I'm basing it on my own experience. Another quick jot, I'm planning on following Hermione through the years of Hogwarts, but in an abbreviated fashion, of course. It'd take me years to write it all out. (If you read my Remembrance of Things Past, you know how verbose I can be.) So, some things may go by quickly, but I'll try to hold true to the events in the books as well. Let me know if you have any comments, questions, concerns, or ideas. And last, but certainly not least, I'd like to thank my lovely beta Heather. You're fabulous, darling! **Lauren 


	3. Making Friends?

So she talked. And talked.  
  
Draco's face lightened considerably ass her speech got longer. He couldn't wait to put her plan into action. His father had always told him of the filthy mudbloods that Gryffindor housed, and Draco had always believed him. He still did, but the fact that he was accepting help from (and giving help to) a mudblood was still a new concept. Nonetheless, he still thought they were a disgrace to the wizarding world, but, he thought, this Granger girl was doing mudbloods the world over a huge favour, cooperating with "the enemy."  
  
He smiled a cruel smile and interrupted Hermione with, "So, if you're giving me information about these people, I'm still doing your dirty work. Why should I do that?"  
  
Hermione took pause and thought for a moment.  
  
"Because, stupid. You hate the Gryffindors. It's in your blood. I could tell you were itching to get under Potter's skin before the sorting ceremony. All I thought I'd do was help you on your mission. Plus, if I were to torment them, it wouldn't really perpetuate my 'good-girl' image. I'm trying to keep my reputation up while also working with you on the side. I just want to help you do your dirty work, which also happens to benefit me," she finished, eyes flashing with irritation.  
  
He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to accept her argument. Finally he caved and said, "I suppose you're right."  
  
Hermione must have shown her surprise, because Draco snapped, "That's right, I gave in to you. Don't expect it to happen too often."  
  
Changing directions, he continued with, "So, do you have anything yet?"  
  
"It would be against both of our better interests to talk about it so openly where we could be seen," Hermione said, a note of frustration surfacing in her voice. "Isn't that obvious? I'll owl you with information. Then it will just look like regular post, and won't be so obvious."  
  
He nodded. "Good thinking."  
  
Just then, they heard footsteps, followed by voices, approaching from the corridor. It sounded like Harry and Ron.  
  
"Quick!" Hermione whispered frantically. "Say something insulting to me!"  
  
He nodded and said loudly, "What are YOU doing, Mudblood? You are the scurf of this school. You don't even deserve to exist."  
  
Hermione pinched herself, hard, to make her eyes water, and then started running toward the library, which, conveniently, was the same direction from which Ron and Harry were coming.  
  
---  
  
They were talking about their Transfiguration homework when they heard Malfoy's voice down the hall. They couldn't understand what he'd said, but they heard quick footsteps coming their direction. Momentarily, they saw Hermione.  
  
Her eyes were full of tears, and her lower lip was quivering, as if she was about to release a fresh round of tears.  
  
Ron stopped her. "Hermione, don't you mind him. He's a sorry excuse for a human being. You know you're better than he is, and that he's not worth crying over," he said, trying to comfort her.  
  
She feigned hurt and said shakily, "You don't know what it's like, being teased for something you can't control!"  
  
Without thinking, Ron shot back, "And do you think I can help being poor? You heard Malfoy the other night; I DO know what it's like!" His face matched his fiery red hair, and his eyes flashed with rage.  
  
Hermione and Harry looked at each other, eyes shifting uncomfortably.  
  
Hermione broke the tension first, shooting a small smile in Ron's direction.  
  
"I guess you do," she said. "I'm sorry for accusing you otherwise."  
  
He smiled back at her.  
  
The atmosphere was still a bit tense between the three, but Harry felt the most of it. He, while having had a difficult time growing up, was now getting nearly everything handed to him on a silver platter. He had an amazing amount of money, he was well known and liked throughout the student body, and his teachers seemed to favor him because he was "The Boy Who Lived." He felt embarrassed by his riches and luck with everyone and everything thus far at Hogwarts.  
  
Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were chatting.  
  
"Before I got my letter," Hermione said, "I'd never believed in anything like this. It was only something I'd read about. But when I did get the letter, I was shocked and excited. After we found it, my parents took me to Diagon Alley, where we were at a huge disadvantage. My parents are just dentists. We had no idea about how things worked in the wizarding world. People looked at us very strangely when we went into Flourish and Blotts and tried to purchase my books with Muggle money. I felt so out of place. People pointed and laughed as we walked down the street, desperately trying to find Gringotts, and after that Ollivanders. I guess I've never felt accepted in the wizarding world. Every little thing that Malfoy says or that I haven't experienced augments this feeling. It's not my fault that I grew up outside of this world."  
  
Ron had newfound respect for Hermione. She knew what it was like to be taunted for something she couldn't control, and now, he found, she even shared a bit of the same money woes as his family did. He could get to like this girl.  
  
Hermione was becoming an expert liar. Her parents were dentists, but they weren't stupid and certainly weren't strapped for cash. She'd only told Ron the majority of it to gain his trust. They had had a difficult time finding things in Diagon Alley, but most people were willing to help them. They weren't laughed at. After she'd succeeded in her mission to gain his trust, she'd be able to talk to him more freely than she would be had he not had his momentary outburst. A large inward smile broke. This was exciting.  
  
---  
  
They chatted about their families on the way back to the common room, with Harry following behind them, feeling like a third wheel.  
  
"So, you really have six brothers and sisters?" she asked, amazed. "How can you live with all of them?"  
  
"We all get along pretty well most of the time, except for my older brother Percy. You know him; he's our prefect. He acts like he's so high and mighty, and honestly, he really annoys the piss out of all of us. But really, the only reason he gets all puffed up is because he's insecure. He puts up a front so people won't know, but he's always been easily frightened. When he was much younger, he'd climb into my parents' bed if he'd had a bad dream," Ron said.  
  
"Well, that's completely normal," Hermione replied.  
  
"Not when you're 13!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
Hermione giggled and returned with, "Well, that's a different story! I'll never look at Percy the same way again!"  
  
Harry cut in and agreed, telling them that his cousin Dudley did that, and probably would until he left home. Since neither Ron nor Hermione knew much about Dudley, excepting the fact that he was Harry's egocentric jerk of a cousin, they didn't see the humour in the statement. They smiled fake smiles and continued talking about Ron's family.  
  
"What about Fred and George?" Hermione inquired. "They seem like troublemakers."  
  
"Well, yeah, they are," Ron replied slowly. "But it's mainly just for attention. Being that they're the middle children, they think they've been neglected since Bill, Charlie and Percy excelled in academics, and they've only had mediocre success. Ginny and I, being the youngest of the family, have always been doted on by both of our parents, so Fred and George must think they have to act out to get attention."  
  
He noticed Hermione's eyes growing wider and her raised eyebrows, questioning the intelligence of his statements.  
  
"Hey, I'm smart too, y'know," he said forcefully. "I understand more things than people give me credit for." He paused. "It's true, though, don't you think? They do that a lot."  
  
"I agree," Harry interjects. "Only with my 'family,' all of the pressure is put on the youngest." Seeing their questioning stares, he quickly explained, "I'm a month and a half younger than Dudley." He'd told them they were the same age, which was technically true, but in this case, the fact that he was a bit younger strengthened his point. "Anyway, I'm the one who does all the work, and Dudley is the one who gets all of the fun. Usually it's the other way 'round," he finished.  
  
Ron nodded. "Ginny's like that. She could murder someone and Mum and Dad would blame one of us older boys, saying we're bad influences and that she didn't know what she was doing. It stinks, but that's the way it is, unfortunately."  
  
By this time, they'd reached the Fat Lady, and after Ron had said the password, they climbed through the portrait hole and into the common room, where they continued their conversation.  
  
---  
  
At the same time, a teachers meeting was being held in Professor Dumbledore's office.  
  
"How do you think the first week has gone?" Dumbledore asked in his soft but authoritative voice.  
  
"I can already tell who the difficult ones will be," commented Professor McGonagall in a somewhat irritated tone. "I'm not looking forward to Neville Longbottom and his clumsiness, or Draco Malfoy and his cronies."  
  
Professor Snape glared at her. "Take no offence when I say this, Minerva, because I mean it in the nicest possible way." His eyes suggested otherwise.  
  
"Proceed," she said curtly.  
  
"The Potter and Weasley duo seem to indicate the trouble they will most likely cause in the future. As it is, Potter believes he is above the law for his unintended, unknowing work against Voldemort. As such, I advise a close watch be kept on them," he finished in a vitriolic tone.  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore warned, shooting Snape a look, which signalled him to stop.  
  
'Saint Potter,' Snape grumbled inwardly. This was shaping up to be a dismal year, indeed.  
  
The conversation continued without him, as it often tended to do.  
  
"Overall, I believe we have a fine group of first-years," Professor Flitwick said happily, an excited gleam in his eyes.  
  
"I would have to agree with you," replied Dumbledore. "It will be a great year for them. On similar subjects, how do the returning students seem to be learning and behaving?"  
  
Looks shot across the room that ranged from extremely amused to excruciatingly enraged. The latter of these looks generally flew from Professor Snape. They were largely ignored. He received more than his fair share of the looks from the rest of the staff as well, but again, they were largely ignored.  
  
Everyone started talking at once, until Snape cut in with "Now, wouldn't it be more.intelligent if we used the system which we expected of our students: one person speaking at once. It's a novel concept, I'm fully aware, but with a little bit of work, I believe it will catch on."  
  
He received looks that could kill from every person in the room, including Professor Dumbledore.  
  
While they ignored the caustic comment, they heeded his advice regarding speaking one at a time. It was a first.  
  
---  
  
After Harry, Ron and Hermione had adjourned to their separate dormitories, Hermione began writing a note, ultimately to be owled to Draco.  
  
'Draco,' it read. 'Having spoken with them for a lengthy period of time this evening, I have news.  
  
RW is incredibly embarrassed by his family's financial state, as I'm sure you knew very well. Loves his family nonetheless, but is still very reluctant to even mention money woes, except when provoked. HP wishes he'd known his family more than anything. Never seen photos, never heard stories, you know the deal. Hates aunt, uncle and cousin. PW: Until he was 13, he'd crawl into his parents' bed when he'd had a nightmare. Perhaps even older than 13. Unsure. RW is a mummy's boy. Always doted on. 2nd youngest of the family. More susceptible to teasing.  
  
Use caution with this information. I don't need to be found out, and you don't want for me to, either. Would ruin your mission.'  
  
She ended the letter with a serpent as her signature, folded it, and took it off to the owlery. She hoped Draco would use all of the information to the best of his abilities, but carefully. She didn't want to be found out, or they would no longer trust her. It wasn't something she wanted.  
  
***  
  
Sorry about the lack of updates.I've been busy. I'll try to be more consistent, but this semester is shaping up to be insane. R&R me. -- Lauren 


	4. Things Are Changing: The Modulatory Situ...

Hermione and Draco collaborated much in the same way throughout the duration of the year, making it more than educationally rewarding for both. They, of course, still put up the façade of hatred between each other, and it worked beautifully. Hermione had actually begun to enjoy his company, even preferring their clandestine late-night information sessions (when things were too pressing or too private to send by owl) to the daytime hours she spent with the "Priss-indors," as she had privately dubbed them.  
  
Keeping in touch over the summer wasn't going to be easy. She, Harry and Ron had promised to write each other and hopefully spend time together before school started up again. She would nearly be on sensory overload if they kept in as close touch as they'd promised.  
  
She wouldn't be able to sign her name on the letters to Draco; the Malfoys openly despised her and her "kind." She and Draco had devised a signature for her: a serpent at the bottom of the last page, artistically but surreptitiously holding her initials, HRG. He'd come to recognise it so well that she no longer needed to hide her initials in it, but she enjoyed finding new places to put them. Sometimes it was just the simple things that gave her pleasure.  
  
Not surprisingly, the pair had become close friends, as close as they could be while still holding up their façade of pure hatred for one another. No one had figured them out. No one, not even the people they were purportedly closest to had any idea that Hermione was feeding Draco private information that had been confided in her. They never suspected her, even though she was probably the only one who knew those things about people. They all figured Draco had gleaned the information from other sources, especially his father. She was lucky.  
  
---  
  
The night before everyone was to leave, the 3 Musketeers, as Hermione had affectionately dubbed Harry, Ron and herself, stayed in the common room, talking until the wee hours of the morning. Many things were just expansions on what they'd discussed innumerable times, but Harry brought up a new, forbidden topic: Voldemort.  
  
"I hate being seen as a hero," he complained bitterly. "I have no idea why I'm so powerful against evil, and furthermore, I hate being heralded as the Boy Who Lived and the defeater of Voldemort." Ron cringed, and Harry quickly apologised.  
  
Continuing, he said, "Being called 'The Boy Who Lived' is just about as prestigious as being called 'The Boy Who Ate All His Vegetables' or something stupid like that. I wish people around here would treat me normally. I'm just a regular kid like all of the students, but for many, I'm their hero. I don't want to be. I hate being in the spotlight all the time. I feel like I'm taking away from other people, especially you two. You're my best friends, and I don't want you to be portrayed in other peoples' minds as 'sidekicks.' We're all equal in everything; it's unfair how this happens. I'm sick of it," he finished irritably. His eyes were flashing with anger at the people not present who placed him on a pedestal.  
  
"I'm sorry for complaining," he said, embarrassed, seeing the looks on their faces. "I don't want to be a pain."  
  
Ron took initiative and spoke. "It really is irritating when I'm referred to as your sidekick, recognised only as your friend, or am totally ignored in favour of you." Hermione nodded her agreement, while Ron continued with, "I know it's not your fault, but it really gets on my nerves. And sometimes it seems like you enjoy being heralded as the hero. Sometimes we'd enjoy it too."  
  
"Sure, sometimes I do enjoy the attention. I never got any positive attention like that when I was growing up with my aunt and uncle, so sometimes I like it. I need to feel like I'm a worthwhile person, too. You guys must have gotten positive attention when you were growing up. Hermione, as an only child, you must have gotten some. You're a perfect student; your parents must be so proud. And Ron, I've seen your family. Even though you might have your differences, in the end you're a really close bunch. I never had any of that. So excuse me if I seem selfish, but I need it. I don't like or need it all the time, but from time to time, it makes me feel good," he finished, looking away from his two friends. 'They'll be mad,' he thought, 'and for good reason.' He was being selfish about all of the attention he received, but he didn't care. He liked hogging the limelight sometimes. He deserved it.  
  
"You're right, Ron. I would like to be given the same attention as Harry gets sometimes. I feel that, even though I'm a good student, all I get is teased for it. We'd like some attention around here too," Hermione responded. "But we're all victims of things beyond our control here. I was born into a Muggle family, Ron's family doesn't have much money." At this, Ron flushed deeply and looked away from his friends. Continuing, Hermione said, ".and Harry did something completely unknown to him with powers and abilities he never wanted or asked for. We're all the same in that respect. We all need to accept, though, that Harry gets more attention because what he did.or didn't do, I suppose, lifted the black cloud from over the wizarding world. It's not that we're any less important; it's just that we're 'recognised' for different things."  
  
All three sets of eyes met, and Ron and Harry's sparked with the realisation of what Hermione was saying. They were all just as important as one another, but for different reasons. There was no point in being angry with each other; they really only had each other for friends and a support system. They needed to band together.  
  
Harry spoke first, slowly. "You're right, as usual, Hermione. We should all just let it go and be friends because we like and need each other. We'll all be jealous of one another at some time, and it will be completely justifiable."  
  
Ron nodded, adding, "This is our time. We need to stay close in this school, what with people like Draco Malfoy and his cronies. We need each other." Hermione's wicked inward grin made another appearance, even though her eyes were glistening with tears. These boys were her faux-friends, but she felt like she might actually be getting attached to them.  
  
'No, Hermione,' she chided herself. 'You know how your friendships always end. You end up alone because you'd rather study than spend time with them. Plus, you know what you're doing. You'd better rethink this decision to be close with them.' She wiped her eyes, trying to be covert, but it didn't work. Ron, sitting closest to her, saw it and put his arm gently around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.  
  
He desperately hoped the gesture wouldn't be too much. He'd begun to have feelings he'd never had before in his life; feelings stronger for Hermione than just friendship. It was strange to him. While he figured she didn't feel the same, it was worth a try. If nothing else, she would take the gesture and face value and enjoy the comfort he offered.  
  
She did. She felt like someone cared about her for more than her intellect and ability to offer sensitive information, and that someone honestly enjoyed her presence. His arm made her feel better. It comforted her and she smiled at him.  
  
"Thanks," she said, taking her other had to wipe her face again.  
  
She didn't move away or make any effort to move his arm. Ron was floored. He'd only just begun to feel anything like this, and he was enjoying the change. A small smile crossed his face as he replied, "What are friends for?"  
  
Again, Harry felt left out of their private little world. He was getting used to it, though. It had been happening all year. He supposed they'd banded together in an effort to combat their irritation about not receiving the same recognition that he did. It was fair enough, he guessed, but he was still upset. 'I deserve good friends too,' he thought bitterly. 'They are my friends, but I feel like I'm being left out on purpose, since I don't have anything in common with them. I'm not poor, I'm not a genius.' He sighed.  
  
He came back into the conversation just as Ron and Hermione decided that they were tired and were going to bed. Harry cursed himself for not paying attention to the conversation, but there was nothing he could do now.  
  
Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder with his hand before removing his arm, and she gave him a strange look. He was immediately embarrassed. 'Stupid!' he yelled at himself. 'Why did I think that this was a smart idea? What was I thinking?'  
  
Hermione walked quickly out of sight to the girls dormitories. This time she was the one who was internally cursing.  
  
'That was cruel,' she reprimanded herself. 'You shouldn't have let him believe anything but the truth. You don't even like him. What were you thinking?' But, her conscience nagged her, maybe she did like him. Maybe it was beyond a friendship. She pushed that thought way back into her head, ignoring. She didn't want to become truly attached to them.  
  
'The summer will iron this out,' she thought, desperately hoping that she was right.  
  
---  
  
The next morning, when everyone woke up, their things were already on the train, which was scheduled for departure at 11am sharp. Breakfast was drawn out, with end-of-term announcements and lengthy goodbyes.  
  
This didn't matter to the trio. The atmosphere was still painfully tense between them. Ron couldn't even look at Hermione after what had happened. She sat across from him and Harry, eyes cast down at her plate. She felt badly about what she'd done.  
  
Neither Hermione nor Ron had eaten anything. Their food had been pushed around their plates until it was cold and disgusting, and still they pushed it. Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable between the two of them. His two best friends were at odds for some reason, and he couldn't figure out why. However, he didn't think asking would be appropriate. Not now, at least.  
  
It felt like forever until the meal was over. When it finally was, Harry went off on his own to say goodbye to a few people, Hagrid in particular, to leave Hermione and Ron alone.  
  
Twisting his toe into the ground, Ron looked away from Hermione. Hermione, eyes fixed on the ground, picked at the skin beside her thumbnail until it started to bleed. Suddenly it was too much. The tension reached its peak and both of them started speaking at once.  
  
"I'm sorry. I..no, don't.wait." Ron said quickly.  
  
"I was wrong.didn't mean to.sorry." Hermione replied just as quickly.  
  
Neither of them understood what the other was saying, so Hermione stopped Ron, saying, "You go first."  
  
Suddenly nervous, Ron flushed a deep crimson. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  
  
'Spit it out!' he thought angrily. 'You need to talk to her!'  
  
He cleared his throat, stalling momentarily.  
  
"I'm.uh.I'm sorry for last night," he mumbled, still looking away. "I, uh.I.um, overstepped my bounds, I guess. I'm really sorry. I didn't think." Now his face was a deep crimson, clashing horribly with his hair.  
  
Hermione turned to face him, but he still wouldn't look at her.  
  
"Look at me," she ordered.  
  
Ron complied, but not without a fight.  
  
"I'm sorry for reacting the way I did last night. It was really nice to have your arm around my shoulder; it really comforted me. But, to be honest, I don't feel like this is the right time for anything like this," she paused, saw the crushed on his face, and quickly added, ".but.friends?" She forced a smile, extending a hand as a truce.  
  
Ron, after thinking on it for a moment, reluctantly brought his hand to meet hers. He was still incredibly embarrassed. Not only had he made a fool out of himself the night before, but now he'd lost his inner fight. At least it was the end of the year, and he didn't have to see her till the start of next term.  
  
He sighed and attempted a smile. It didn't come out too well. 'Oh well,' he thought. 'I don't care.' But he did. He knew he did. He had to persuade himself not to care; to detach himself from the situation. He sighed. When did it become this difficult?  
  
Hermione quickly withdrew her hand, upon seeing the strange look on Ron's face. What had she done?  
  
Ron stood up and walked off without looking back, searching for Harry.  
  
---  
  
When the train reached Platform 9 ¾, the three of them remained seated, looking at each other uncomfortably. Eyes shifted from person to person, and nervous habits were surfacing. Ron twisted his toe into the carpet in front of him, Harry picked at his scar, and Hermione picked at the skin by her thumbnail, ripping away the scab from the previous night.  
  
Finally, Hermione stood up, cleared her throat, and said quickly, "Gottagomyparentswillbewaiting," and left without looking back.  
  
Harry looked at Ron questioningly. "What.?"  
  
"Ummm.." Ron stalled. "Ummm.I don't know."  
  
"How can you not know?"  
  
"I just don't!" With that, Ron stormed out of the compartment, leaving Harry wondering what he'd done this time.  
  
---  
  
Once at home, Hermione quickly unpacked. She, being the resourceful girl that she was, walked around outside her neighborhood to find an owl to send post to Draco. She didn't know how well it would work, but it might be worth a try.  
  
Her letter began:  
  
"Draco:  
  
Update: RW enjoys HG's company, much more than a friendship. Intentions shown the night before going home, in the Gryffindor common room. I have successfully created rifts btw. HP, RW and HG. Use to your advantage.  
  
HP hates his fame. RW jealous. VERY jealous. HG feels similar. Use both: make it seem as if you found this out on your own.  
  
Any other news, will owl you.  
  
HG"  
  
She hoped that this barn owl she'd found would be capable of delivering mail to the Malfoy residence. If not.she wasn't sure what she'd do. Maybe she'd convince her parents to take her to Diagon Alley to get her books, and then announce that she needed a magical creature, and that owls were the most useful.  
  
'Yes,' she thought. 'If I don't receive a reply, that's what I'll do.'  
  
Her wicked smile resurfaced, after having been in hiding for such a long time. Being bad felt so good.  
**Sorry it's been forever! I've been so busy with school, work, practicing, etc.that I haven't had time to do this. But I'm working on it! R&R me. --Lauren 


	5. Working it Out

The summer passed quickly for all of the Hogwarts students.  
  
Ron, still getting over the embarrassment he'd suffered at the beginning of the summer, spent his days playing Quidditch with his brothers (he hoped to try out for the house team the following year) or daydreaming in his room. Contrary to popular opinion, Ron was less of a straightforward, feet-on-the- ground type of person. Most of the time, his head resided up in the clouds. He liked it up there. His life was perfect up there: no embarrassing, bungled moves of attraction, no poverty, and no stupidity. He wished it were real.  
  
---  
  
Harry, though still living with the Dursleys, had a rather good time over the summer as well. This summer, he whiled away his days in his room by choice. He sent letters to Ron and Hermione by way of Hedwig, and received responses promptly. Both sent packages, knowing that Harry was in his room and generally underfed. He even received mail and packages from Hagrid. Though he appreciated the thought, Hagrid's cooking left much to be desired. The rock cakes he'd sent were in a box under Harry's bed should there be a sudden emergency and he couldn't eat anything else. He shuddered at the thought. How many rock cakes could one possibly eat and still live?  
  
---  
  
Hermione's summer was going better than she'd planned. The owl she'd found on the street had delivered her mail to Draco, and he'd responded with a short "Thanks. Will do." She'd also been receiving letters from Harry and Ron, telling her about their summers. She'd been replying, giving them basic information about her summer and trying to glean more blackmail information from them. She was beginning to worry, though. Her attachment to them was becoming stronger than she wanted it to be. She knew that if they became close, she wouldn't be able to derive such pleasure from blackmailing them. Even though she'd only started being "bad" this year, she rather enjoyed it. It had become her favorite pastime, second only to studying.  
  
She sighed. Maybe she didn't want friends. Maybe being a loner was something she really liked; something she was cut out for. Maybe it was her destiny. She didn't like these periods of reflection. They always made her feel awkward and uncomfortable within her own thoughts. It was a bit scary at times.  
  
But, her mind argued, reflection helps you sort out your priorities. Your thoughts are important, and you need to work through them. You really need to think about this. Do you want to be friends with them? Do you want to continue doing what you're doing with Draco?  
  
She wasn't sure. She liked both of the options. She could be friends with Harry and Ron while still passing Gryffindor information to Draco. It didn't have to be about Harry and Ron; it could be about random Gryffindors.  
  
But, her conscience nagged, eventually you'll have to decide where your loyalties lie. You can't do this forever.  
  
She sighed, a deeper sigh this time, and went back to her new Defense Against the Dark Arts book.  
  
---  
  
Draco's summer was going amazingly well. He'd spent the majority of it practicing Quidditch: his father had purchased new Nimbus 2001 broomsticks to assure him a place as Seeker on the Slytherin team. He'd been taught by the best Quidditch players in the wizarding world, of course. His father wouldn't give his son anything less than the best. Draco was actually quite skilled at Quidditch, judging from what his instructor and father had said. He, of course, already knew it. He had always been the best at everything he did, and he made sure that everyone else knew it too.  
  
He continued receiving owls from Hermione, nearly on a weekly basis. Some information was trivial, just petty facts, but the majority of it was very helpful. He filed all of the papers away in a school folder, to be looked at when he arrived at school again in the fall. He had begun to anxiously await each letter from Hermione. He couldn't wait to add to his arsenal.  
  
He wanted to share his wicked excitement with his father, since Lucius hated Harry Potter and the disgraceful Weasleys more than anyone he knew, but he also knew that his father wouldn't take too well to the fact that Draco was collaborating with a filthy Mudblood. Even though Hermione's information was harmful to Potter and the Weasleys, his father would be outraged. Draco sighed. He could never win with his father.  
  
However, Lucius had begun to suspect something when Draco began receiving post regularly from the same owl. Draco remembered the confrontation well.  
  
(memory) "Draco, I've noticed you've been receiving quite a bit of mail from a brown barn owl lately. Dare I ask to whom it belongs?" asked Lucius icily.  
  
Draco fumbled for an answer.  
  
"It's Pansy Parkinson's. She and I became close over the course of last year through our desire to taunt Potter and his friends. She likes to send me updates on her summer, and I do vaguely the same thing. Sometimes she comes upon a bit of information regarding one or both of the groups, and we plan to use it against them once school starts up again. We also spend a lot of time teasing that filthy Mudblood Granger." Draco paused, momentarily growing a conscience and feeling a bit badly for what he was saying about the girl who furthered his evil mission and had actually become his friend.  
  
Seeing the look on his face, Lucius asked coldly, "And?"  
  
Draco lost the conscience and replied evenly, "And that's it. It's something we do for fun. Pansy is really good at it, too. Her taunts are short but scathing." He smiled evilly.  
  
Lucius nodded. "Good. Keep in mind that we are better than those half- breeds and Mudbloods. It is your duty, as a Malfoy, to remind them of that fact constantly. If I hear differently, there will be severe consequences. The first thing to go will be Quidditch, and other things will continue disappearing until you shape up."  
  
His threat did not go unheard by Draco. Not for the first time in his 12 years, he was afraid of his father. He didn't like to admit it, but his father scared him beyond belief. Lucius was the most powerful Dark wizard, and he expected Draco to follow in his footsteps. Draco had always planned on doing the same thing as his father, and still his plan was unwavering, but sometimes a bit of doubt nibbled at him. He always pushed it out with a bit of taunting. That always pulled him out of a funk.  
  
Now, however, that could not work. At least not currently. School wasn't in session; henceforth, he couldn't get to Potter or Weasley. He shuddered at the memory of this exchange. He couldn't be found out. He wouldn't be able to do what he was doing if his father knew how he got his information. His intentions were every bit as wicked as his Lucius' were, but the way Draco received his information was contrary to every belief that his family held sacred. He would receive the worst beating of his life if Lucius found out.  
  
---  
  
When the day arrived, all of the students were glad to return, but especially Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. While their summers had been very good, all wished to be back to further their separate interests.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione all met at Platform 9 ¾, and the excitement ran high.  
  
"Harry! Ron! So good to see you!" Hermione trilled in a high falsetto.  
  
"It's great to see you too!" they chorused in unison.  
  
"How was your summer?" Ron asked Hermione.  
  
'You should bloody well know,' she thought irritably. 'I only owled you every week.'  
  
She refrained from saying that, and instead pasted on her phony smile, saying, "It went very well! How were your summers?"  
  
Harry and Ron nodded, signalling that they too had good summers. Nothing to complain about.  
  
They settled comfortably in the same compartment, still talking rather excitedly.  
  
"So, what courses are you two taking this term?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Same things," they answered in unison.  
  
"Are you really?" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
"Yeah, why?" Ron asked.  
  
"I've added Arithmancy and Divination," she said proudly.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at her, awed.  
  
"WHY?" Ron asked.  
  
"I need more of a challenge," she said simply. She didn't mention that Draco had added the same courses. It was better, she had decided, not to tell them. Being protective of her, they'd try to coerce her out of them; therefore, it was none of their business.  
  
Harry and Ron were still amazed that she'd added even more courses. They knew she was an overachiever, but how would she fit it all in? They were absolutely baffled.  
  
Momentarily, Draco was passing in the corridor. He gave Hermione a dirty look, the one they'd reserved to imply that they needed to meet. Hermione returned the look, and Draco continued down the hall.  
  
Neither Harry nor Ron had noticed this exchange. They were too busy talking Quidditch to pay any attention to Hermione. She didn't care; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. It game here time to get sorted, which she badly needed to do.  
  
She needed to decide which side she was going to support. Would she go the way of the noble Gryffindor, or the suspect Slytherin? She'd been wrestling with this question all summer. She couldn't keep riding the fence; sooner or later she'd have to decide.  
  
She'd already made a mental list of the pros and cons of each option. There weren't a lot of pros for Gryffindor; in fact, there was just one. Silly though it was, she fancied Oliver Wood a bit. She enjoyed seeing him in the common room on a daily basis, and enjoyed talking to him quite a bit. It would be difficult, not to mention awkward, to continue this if she decided to support the Slytherin cause.  
  
This was her only pro on the Gryffindor list. However, there were quite a few cons.  
  
Firstly, she couldn't stand the self-righteousness of those people. They revered themselves as the highest beings in the school: in their minds, no one else was worth associating with. She couldn't stand that. She hated those kinds of people. They'd snubbed her all too much throughout her school career. Her conscience told her that the Slytherins were the same way, but she ignored that thought every time it surfaced.  
  
Secondly, they were too pious. She'd been that way for much too long, and was long overdue for a change. Bad as it might be, she liked the person she was becoming. No one suspected it, and she liked that. She loved her wicked thoughts, and the evil grin that appeared whenever she was plotting something underhanded. The smile surfaced again. She suppressed it this time, remembering where she was and whom she was with. They were oblivious, though. Their were focused only on Quidditch, not even paying attention to her.  
  
'Good,' she thought.  
  
She sighed, continuing to mentally list the pros and cons of the two houses.  
  
Gryffindor had heinous colours, too, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Red and gold? She much preferred the green and silver of Slytherin, which were much classier.  
  
Finally, she thought, all of the people she knew, present company included, were incredibly stuck up. It went hand in hand with the self-righteousness and piety. It was truly torturous. She'd nearly lost her mind multiple times last school year trying not to fly off the handle and scream at them.  
  
She wrinkled her nose again, pausing to look out the window. They were fast approaching the school. She let herself fall deep into her thoughts again.  
  
On the other hand, however, she had multiple pros for Slytherin and few to no cons.  
  
First, she'd developed a taste for evildoing. While blackmailing people wasn't exactly true evil, it was the gateway to worse things. Besides, it was the worst thing she'd ever done. She loved it.  
  
Second, she felt a lot closer to Draco than she ever had been (or ever would be, she thought) to Harry or Ron. The friendship that she and Draco had was more than just the exchange of information; no, she thought, it was progressing to an honest friendship. The dirty looks had become sort of a sign of affection to her; she almost looked forward to them and the meetings they implied. A small smile crossed her face, neither evil nor ecstatic, but that gave her a bit of happiness.  
  
She'd begun to prefer Professor Snape's classes to any of her others. His were the most challenging, and getting him to like her was the biggest challenge she'd ever faced. She accepted both willingly. Challenges were something she needed. 'It must be in my blood,' she thought.  
  
She still couldn't decide, no matter the lists of pros and cons. She'd been sorted into Gryffindor, which had to mean something. 'Did the sorting hat ever make mistakes?' she mused.  
  
Again she looked out the window and saw Hogwarts only a few kilometres in the distance. She snapped out of her reverie and notified Harry and Ron that they ought to change into their robes. They quickly did, and the group began their idle chatter once more. Hermione was trying to conceal the discomfort she felt when she was around them. This feeling had only grown over the past year, making it almost painful for her to be with them. However, until she made her decision, she at least needed to pretend that she was close with them. She sighed.  
  
They exited the train and paraded into the Great Hall, anxiously awaiting the sorting ceremony. Hermione kept to herself, not looking at Harry or Ron. She was trying to avoid the seemingly concerned looks, not wanting to make her decision.  
  
It was prolonged by the beginning of the sorting ceremony. The Gryffindors were anxiously waiting and watching to see who they would get. Everyone save for Hermione. She, for some reason, didn't are. Maybe that meant she'd made her decision. She wasn't sure. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head of the mixed thoughts that had been plaguing her for what seemed like an eternity. This didn't help. The strong opposition of her thoughts only intensified. This was killing her. Her mind and body just couldn't handle the pressure she was under to make her decision. Suddenly, her world went black. She collapsed face first into her full plate.  
  
No one noticed. No one save for Draco, who had been watching her for the past few minutes. However, he couldn't do anything: it was uncharacteristic of Slytherins, and, more importantly, of himself. He felt badly for Hermione; she was obviously the most tolerable of the Gryffindors, and no one seemed to care. He almost wanted to throw away his reputation to help her, but then he thought of what his father would do when he heard. Draco restrained himself, willing a Gryffindor to notice, any Gryffindor.  
  
What seemed like an eternity passed, when, finally, Percy Weasley looked to the end of the table, searching out Fred and George, and he saw Hermione face down in her plate.  
  
He rushed over to her and lifted her head from her plate. She still wasn't moving. He quickly wiped her face and almost flew to the hospital wing, carrying her.  
  
The rest of the Gryffindors were in shock after seeing Percy rush off with Hermione, especially Harry and Ron. Why hadn't she told them that she was sick? What's wrong? They abruptly stood, knocking their bench over in the process, and followed Percy to the hospital wing.  
  
Neither spoke on the way there. They didn't know what to say. It was only the first day; she couldn't be worrying or stressing over schoolwork yet. They were confused, but most of all, extremely worried. Hermione had always kept her composure, even in the most difficult of situations. This was very frightening.  
  
Meanwhile in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had placed Hermione on a cot, with Percy sitting beside her, a concerned look adorning his face. Madam Pomfrey bustled about, getting a cold compress for Hermione's forehead, and smelling salts to bring her around.  
  
Percy was sitting beside her, and he suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to take her hand to comfort her (and himself as well), so he reached out to her. The hands he touched were clammy. His concern deepened to fear. Clammy hands couldn't be a good thing. He didn't want to call for Madam Pomfrey, though. He didn't want to appear too needy or obsessive. Plus, she would be back momentarily, he hoped.  
  
As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, she came back into the room, hold a cool cloth and a clear jar of smelling salts. She opened the jar and put it underneath Hermione's nose. Hermione stirred, but didn't wake.  
  
Madam Pomfrey tried again. This time, Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open, as if she was waking from a very deep sleep. She tried to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pushed Hermione's shoulders back to the bed. Hermione didn't resist. Madam Pomfrey placed the cool cloth on Hermione's forehead, which was burning up, when Hermione asked confusedly, "What happened? Why is Percy here? Where are Harry and Ron?"  
  
As if that was their cue, Harry and Ron burst through the doors of the hospital wing, both out of breath.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron said, a note of concern in his voice. "What happened?"  
  
Percy decided to field this question, since he'd been the one who saw her and took her here.  
  
He stared his brother in the eyes, and said, "She collapsed into her dinner. I don't know why. Hermione, I'm here because I saw you face down in your plate and carried you up here." He paused, looking again at Harry and Ron. "As for you two, she was just asking after you. Hermione, how are you feeling?"  
  
"Confused," she answered slowly, holding back her mild irritation with Harry and Ron for not noticing her. The fact that she was sitting away from them was inconsequential. They should have noticed, she thought, becoming more and more irritated.  
  
"I don't know why this happened," she lied.  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked at her with concerned eyes. "Have you been under any sort of stress lately?"  
  
Hermione pondered telling the truth, but then thought better of it. "No," she fibbed. "Classes haven't started yet, so there's really no reason for me." she trailed off.  
  
"Can I go back to Gryffindor now?" she asked.  
  
Madam Pomfrey pondered this question and finally nodded.  
  
"Percy, Harry and Ron, you help her back. You, missy, need to get a lot of rest before your classes begin. You'll only have this happen again if you don't."  
  
Hermione nodded, slowly standing up with Percy's help. She noticed Harry and Ron standing a few feet away, avoiding her gaze in their direction. Her irritation quickly turned to anger, but she hid it well.  
  
Percy put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, glaring at his brother and Harry for not helping.  
  
Ron felt his brother's gaze and punched Harry in the shoulder, signalling that they, too, should help. Harry nodded, and they walked over to Percy and Hermione. Ron put his arm around Hermione's waist opposite to Percy, and Harry was walking behind them in case she fell.  
  
The walk to Gryffindor was silent. Hermione's anger was coming to a boil, but she didn't want to ream Harry and Ron out in front of Percy, much less in the corridor. She'd wait.  
  
***  
  
Sorry it's been so long since I updated!!! I was on choir tour this past week, and then midterms came before that. Ugh. Anyway, hopefully it won't take this long in the future! --Lauren 


	6. Don't Look Back in Anger

The next day, when Hermione woke, her face and neck ached from her collision with the table. She crawled out of bed and saw that her face was adorned with several bruises, most likely from the force at which she'd hit her plate. She cursed herself for falling, and didn't want to go to her classes. Unfortunately, it was the first day, and she couldn't miss.  
  
She brushed her hair and teeth, dressed quickly, and hurried to the Great Hall for breakfast. She saw that most people were finished, so she shoved two pieces of French toast and a glass of pumpkin juice down her throat. She couldn't be late.  
  
Her first class was Arithmancy. Professor Vector introduced herself and gave a comprehensive overview of what they would be covering over the course of the term, which took the entire class period.  
  
Hermione sat by herself, and saw Draco sitting with Pansy Parkinson, who was shooting daggers at her. Hermione cast her gaze away from Pansy and toward Draco, trying to catch his eye. It worked, and he shot her a confused look, staring at her bruises. She dismissed his stare with a hard look, returning her attention to Professor Vector.  
  
Class soon ended, and Hermione loitered around her seat, somewhat waiting for Draco, hoping that Pansy would leave relatively quickly. Hermione wanted to arrange a meeting time between herself and Draco. She put her books in her bag slowly, trying to catch his eye so he would stay.  
  
He caught her questioning stare and shook his head 'no,' surreptitiously gesturing to Pansy, who was waiting for him outside the door. He mimed a writing action, and Hermione nodded. She'd send him an owl when she returned to Gryffindor later that afternoon.  
  
---  
  
She met up with Harry and Ron later in the morning, after she'd gotten out of Divination, when they were in Transfiguration, which was Harry and Ron's first class of each day.  
  
She greeted them with a genuinely happy look upon her face. She was surprised that she was happy to see them. Maybe it was the fact that she could openly talk to them, vs. the clandestine meetings between her and Draco. Then she remembered what they'd done (or, rather, what they hadn't done) the night before, and her smile disappeared.  
  
Harry and Ron finally noticed something she did, and they exchanged perplexed looks.  
  
"What's up?" Harry asked her, showing his confusion.  
  
"I'll tell you later. I don't want to get into it now," she replied shortly.  
  
Without speaking, they sat down in their old places: Harry and Ron, Hermione and Neville. Momentarily, Professor McGonagall came in and began the class. There were no introductions or anything resembling a syllabus. She expected them to know what was going on. They'd been in her class before; they should.  
  
She was telling them that they would begin animal transfigurations, and Hermione's eyes widened. She was very excited. Inanimate objects were fun, but she needed more of a challenge, like she had told Harry and Ron. She looked around the classroom and saw that the rest of the class was as excited as she was.  
  
The Gryffindors were paired with the Ravenclaws in Transfiguration, which was new. They'd never been paired with anyone but the Slytherins in all of their classes. It was nice to have some variety.  
  
Hermione felt eyes on her, and she turned to find the source to be at least half of the Ravenclaws. She glared at them and quickly turned away. Apparently the news hadn't gotten around, which was highly unusual. She raised her eyebrows and then turned back to face Professor McGonagall.  
  
Class went quickly, and Hermione, Harry and Ron booked it out of the classroom. They were hungry, and speed-walked to the Great Hall. Their walk was silent, as was the meal. Hermione was trying to think of what she would say to Harry and Ron when she talked to them about the previous night.  
  
She had a stoic look on her face, staring down at her plate. All she saw were the faces of Harry and Ron. They seemed to be smirking at her. She narrowed her eyes and continued eating, becoming extremely angry. Unfortunately, she couldn't act on it until after classes finished today. She wrinkled her nose and wiped the residue of pumpkin soup from the corners of her mouth. She grimaced, shoving her plate and bowl toward the center of the table, and left.  
  
Their last class of the day was Potions. Hermione was sort of looking forward to it. She wanted to see Draco, but more importantly, try to win over Professor Snape. That had been the only thing she was unable to do last year. She wasn't even sure how she'd begin to do that. He seemed to hate her no matter how she behaved or performed in his class. The next time she met with Draco, she'd have to find out what to do. She made a mental note to ask.  
  
Again, she sat with Neville, who had only just found out about her collision with her dish. He asked her about it, meaning no ill will, and she snapped back, "Leave me alone. That's all I've heard today, and I'm royally sick of it."  
  
Neville shrunk away, taken aback. Hermione had been nothing but kind to him, and now she was snapping at him? He was befuddled. Maybe she was just in a bad mood.  
  
He tried another tack. "Are you okay, then?" he asked timidly.  
  
"Yes. Just perfect," she said in a tone so sharp that it could cut diamonds. She turned away from him and focused her attention on Professor Snape, who had already begun his start-of-term lecture.  
  
"As you know, you are expected to perform at the highest possible standards in this class. Any less is unacceptable. As such, no time shall be wasted. Each moment of class is a precious commodity, and to even come close to succeeding in this class, you must realise it. As it is, I find it ludicrous that I must repeat this to you at the beginning of each term. You should be old and intelligent enough to understand this, but obviously you are not."  
  
He finished his speech with a note of superiority in his voice and the familiar cruel glint in his eyes. He was back; in full force, no less.  
  
Hermione sat at her desk, half-listening. Perhaps. perhaps behaving according to his strict rules would please him. No. she'd tried that already. What else could she do? Her intelligence hadn't impressed him; no, that only seemed to make him resent her even more. Maybe if she acted more like a Slytherin. Perhaps that would work. She could do it. She'd been covertly acting like one for long enough. It might just be worth her while.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a cold voice.  
  
"Are you still with us, Miss Granger?"  
  
Without thinking, she shot back, "Well, sure, now that you so kindly brought me back." She rolled her eyes and continued in the same sarcastic tone, "Thanks for that. You're the greatest."  
  
With that, she cast her eyes back at the paper on her desk and began concentrating again on her thoughts of how to get on his good side. Realising what she'd just done, she thought, crestfallen, that she'd probably just screwed herself over.  
  
'Nice job,' she reprimanded herself.  
  
"Are you listening to me, Miss Granger?"  
  
"Nope. You'll have to repeat yourself," she said, shocked at what was coming out of her mouth. It was like she was possessed by a demon.  
  
Snape's eyes widened, flashing with pure rage.  
  
"Sine when do you feel that you are authorised to speak to me, much less any professor, like that?" he spat angrily.  
  
She fished for an answer and couldn't find one. She raised her eyebrows, shook her head and shrugged her shoulders defiantly.  
  
"I see that you're speechless, as well you should be. As such, you are receiving double detention. If this happens again, I will see to it myself that you are expelled. You are skating on thin ice with hot blades, Miss Granger. I heartily recommend that you watch your step." His cold voice cut to the bones of everyone in the chilly dungeon. Neville, sitting beside Hermione, was quivering in his seat. He refused to look at anything but his fingers, which he was drumming anxiously on the desk.  
  
Snape glared at him. "Stop that insufferable racket, Longbottom."  
  
Neville complied immediately, sharp frightened tears stinging his eyes.  
  
"Miss Granger, fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your attitude, and you'd better be on your best behaviour. You'll find that you will be sent back to the Muggle world in an instant if you aren't."  
  
His cold eyes burned through Hermione's insolent stare. Secretly, he had a newfound respect for her. She was no longer a soft little girl who meekly followed instructions. She was coming into her own, and beginning to be able to stand up for herself. He liked that. Gryffindors were usually spineless children who blindly obeyed every rule. This Granger girl was not one of them. In fact, she was acting more like a Slytherin than a Gryffindor. Much more like a Slytherin. A wicked grin crossed his face, and he reconvened his class.  
  
---  
  
At the end of class, everyone avoided Hermione like she was a leper. Harry and Ron wouldn't even look at her. The Slytherins, however, began giving her dubious appreciative looks. Draco looked like he might actually be proud of her. Even Pansy Parkinson shot her a small smile. This bridge between the Gryffindors and Slytherins was unprecedented. Some of the Gryffindors were slow in leaving, but when they saw the exchanges between Hermione and the Slytherins, they left as quickly as they could.  
  
Before she got all the way out the door, Snape called her to the back of the classroom.  
  
She was a bit nervous. What would he do? She'd acted quite poorly in class today, and she didn't need anyone else to tell her that.  
  
"Miss Granger," he began, the icy tone leaving his voice. "While your behaviour in class today was far below exemplary, it was a refreshing change to your usual sombre attitude. It's time you began sticking up for yourself."  
  
He saw the shock in her eyes and continued with, "This does not mean that I want you to act this way each class period. In fact, I expect you to act with every bit of courtesy that you possess. You are still a student and I am still your teacher. However, your outburst today showed me that you are becoming more of an adult than a child. Keep that up."  
  
He turned from her, robes swirling, and walked back to his table. Hermione stood, speechless, staring after him.  
  
Snape began placing his supplies back in their correct places on their shelves when he felt eyes upon him. He turned around to see Hermione staring at him with a glazed look in her eyes.  
  
"Are you still here, Miss Granger?" he snapped.  
  
She looked up at him. "What do you think? I'm standing here, aren't I?"  
  
He gave her a pained look.  
  
"Just because I showed a sliver of appreciation for your cheek, I don't want to hear it every minute of every day. Like I said, you are skating on thin ice with hot blades. You need to know when to use your sharp tongue and when to hold back," he said sharply, dismissing her with a glance toward the door.  
  
She left feeling like she was walking on air.  
  
'Holy cricket!' she thought. 'He actually respect me. Just what I've been striving for!' She was proud of herself. She'd done it all on her own, without even asking Draco. This really made her day; no, her week!  
  
She smiled a genuine smile while she was walking down the hall. No one could stop her now.  
  
---  
  
Ron and Harry left the Potions dungeon talking quietly to each other. Neither could believe what Hermione had done.  
  
"It's so unlike her!" Ron said, confused. "I wonder what motivated her to do it?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry replied slowly. "She always wanted Professor Snape to respect her, but I doubt this was the way to go about it."  
  
Ron shook his head. "Well, he has a sharp tongue, too." he trailed off.  
  
Harry pondered this for a moment. "I still don't know. I don't think he'd enjoy anyone sassing back to him. Even if it is Snape."  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. How about asking her? She's coming up behind us."  
  
Sure enough, when Harry turned around, he saw Hermione walking their way with her head down. She looked upset.  
  
"Hey 'Mione," Harry said gently. "How are you?"  
  
"How do you think I am?" she snapped. "I just had a professor chastise me for something other than my intellect."  
  
"So?" Ron countered. "We get that all the time."  
  
Hermione glared at him. "The thing about this issue is that I couldn't care less about smarting off to him. In fact, I'm proud of myself for doing it. I hate being quiet Hermione who never objects to anything. I hate being the 'typical' Gryffindor. I have my own life and my own opinions. If people don't share them, that's fine, but I'm still going to make myself heard."  
  
Both Harry's and Ron's eyes were widening with every word she spoke. Was this really Hermione?  
  
"But.but." Ron sputtered, staring at her in disbelief.  
  
"But what?" she shot back. "'But Hermione isn't like this!' 'What's wrong with Hermione?' Let me tell you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me! I already said how tired I was of being boring, uptight Hermione. I have the right to change my personality to fit my changing needs, don't I?" Her eyes dared them to challenge her.  
  
They didn't. Instead, they backed away slowly, as if they were frightened of her. They were, a little bit. What had happened to the Hermione they knew?  
  
---  
  
The Gryffindors ignored Hermione at dinner. It was nothing new anymore. They would sneak questioning glances at her frequently, but would turn back quickly, embarrassed, if she caught them staring at her. She didn't care. In fact, she liked the attention. It was nice to be recognised for something other than her academic success. Sure, they would probably still hate her, but she didn't give a flying crap. She didn't want them to like her. She didn't like them, or their constant jabber about being the best because they were Gryffindors. She rolled her eyes. They would soon find out how wrong they were.  
  
---  
  
After dinner, she tried to beat everyone else back to the common room, but it didn't work. She climbed through the portrait hole and all eyes were on her. It felt like they were trying to reproach her for her actions in class. She wasn't swayed by this. She shot them dirty looks as she passed them on her way to the dormitories. She hoped Lavender and Parvati weren't there yet.  
  
She was in luck. They hadn't yet arrived. She flopped down on her bed and cracked open her books. Even though she was the new, "bad" Hermione, she still had homework, and she wouldn't quit doing it.  
  
She realised, however, in the midst of doing her Transfiguration homework, that she still had to confront Ron and Harry about what they hadn't done the other night. Her eyes narrowed and looked away from her books. They focused on photo that rested on her nightstand. It was of her, Harry and Ron, all looking happy. The picture had been taken right before the end of last term. It was before Ron had shared his feelings for her, before the real anger and bitterness had set in. She thought on the photo momentarily, her face softening for a second. Maybe they weren't all bad.  
  
'Snap out of it,' she scolded herself. 'You've gone too far to go back. Besides, you don't want to be a little priss like they are, do you?'  
  
She didn't.  
  
Suddenly she heard footsteps coming up the stairs to her dormitory. The voices that accompanied them were giggling loudly.  
  
Defeated, she thought, 'Here come Lav and Par. I don't want to deal with them now.'  
  
Too late. They entered the dormitory, saw Hermione, and stopped laughing. They tried to look away from her, but their eyes wouldn't let them. They were intrigued by her. Here she was, doing her homework, acting like nothing was different, but just a few hours ago she'd been a fireball. When did this switch happen? They looked at each other, Parvati motioning for Lavender to ask what was up with Hermione. Lavender in turn bit her lip and shook her head, hoping that if she waited long enough, Parvati would ask.  
  
Neither of them had to wait long. When Hermione felt their eyes boring holes into the back of her head, she whipped around to face them angrily.  
  
"I suppose you're going to ask me why I did it, too?" she snapped. She saw two sets of frightened eyes staring back at her. 'Good,' she thought, irritated. "Well?" she demanded. She wasn't going to let them go.  
  
Lavender hit Parvati, hard, to tell her to answer Hermione. She took the hint and said, "Well, yeah.I guess.it's just."  
  
".not like me?" Hermione sneered.  
  
"Well.yeah." Lavender stammered.  
  
"Yeah. Right. Like I told the dynamic duo downstairs, I'm plain sick of being good, quiet, obedient Hermione, as I'm sure you've guessed," she paused, shooting them dirty looks. She continued, "So I'm changing. Either you like it or you deal with it. We'll be living together, so I suggest you at least deal with it."  
  
She turned back to her books and was about to resume studying when Parvati said irritably, "What if we don't want to deal with it?"  
  
Hermione turned around again, giving Parvati the coldest stare she'd ever mustered.  
  
"What if you don't want to deal with it? I'll tell you what to do if you don't want to deal with it. A little wisdom from me to you: kiss my ass!"  
  
With that, she stood and walked out in search of Harry and Ron. She had a fish to fry with them.  
  
---  
  
She found them lounging in the common room talking to Oliver Wood and Ron's brother Percy. She didn't care what they were talking about, or who was in the room. She was furious now. They deserved her wrath.  
  
They saw her coming toward them, and, upon seeing the look on her face and the pace at which she was walking, abruptly stopped talking and stared at her. This caused Oliver and Percy to see what was the reason for which they stopped talking. They saw Hermione, flamingly angry. Oliver and Percy quickly excused themselves. She probably didn't want to talk to them anyway. They moved across the room to where they wouldn't be involved but could still hear what was going on.  
  
"Hi, 'Mione," Ron said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace.  
  
"Don't 'hi' me, buster," she growled. "I have a bone to pick with the two of you."  
  
They looked at her, confused. What had they done?  
  
"What did we do?" ventured Harry  
  
"It's more like what didn't you do!" she sputtered. "You remember that first night before classes?"  
  
They nodded. Where was this going?  
  
"I'm sure you recall what happened that night, then, too."  
  
They nodded again, looking at her with confused eyes.  
  
"My problem is that you didn't do a damned thing! You didn't even see me! Your brother was the only one who saw. With that response time, I bet a Slytherin saw me first." She paused, her stare burning holes in them. Continuing, she said, "You're supposed to be my two best friends. You didn't notice me at all during that meal. You really hurt my feelings. How could you do that?" She was visibly upset.  
  
They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Finally Ron spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry. We were too caught up in everything else."  
  
"That's a crap excuse! I'm your friend! You shouldn't be too caught up to spend time with me! Maybe this friendship isn't as important to you as it was to me." She ignored the hurt looks on their faces. She didn't want to feel guilty. She hardened her heart and set her mouth in a thin line.  
  
She glared at them and they shrank back. They were upset with her, sure, but more so with themselves. If they had known it meant so much to her, they would have apologised and tried to make it up to her. It didn't look like that was an option now.  
  
She whirled around, leaving them staring after her. Could they do anything to fix this?  
  
---  
  
She left the room, head held high, words still ringing in her ears. 'Maybe this friendship isn't as important to you as it is to me' struck a real chord with her. Her 'friendship' with Draco was incredibly important to her, but was it as important to him as it was to her? Did she want to know? She wasn't sure. If it wasn't, then she'd really be all alone. She hoped that it was, for her sake. She didn't want to ask. She didn't want her heart broken like it had been so many times before.  
  
---  
  
Harry and Ron stared after her, stunned. She'd never, ever flown off the handle at them before. Why? They knew she was upset with them, but.why all of the violent anger? What was the point?  
  
They looked at each other, completely speechless. Their eyes showed their confusion. They'd probably lost their chances. She was probably lost to them forever now.  
  
They turned back to the common room and saw nearly everyone looking at them. The others were probably intrigued by what Hermione had done too. So unlike her.  
  
'But then, so many things are unlike her now,' Ron thought. 'Perhaps she really isn't the Hermione we thought she was. Maybe she's hated us ever since that first day.' He thought back to the first night and cringed. They had been so cruel to her then, and expected her to forgive them right away. She had, maybe; at least outwardly. If she was acting out like this, maybe it had been festering for a long time. He sighed. He felt awful, knowing that this could partially be his fault. 'But,' he reasoned with himself, 'if it was my fault, then it was Harry's, too, because he was involved as well.' Again he sighed.  
  
Harry had similar feelings. He felt awful about what they'd done. They didn't deserve her as a friend. She deserved someone who cared. 'Not us,' he thought sorrowfully. He'd really gotten attached to her, grown accustomed to her face. They both had.  
  
But there was nothing they could do about it anymore. The damage had been done, and all they could do was survey the wreckage.  
  
---  
  
Sorry it's taken so long to do this! This semester has been a bitch, and I've been trying to do all of my schoolwork, have a life, and then squeeze this in between the rest of it. Oh, and if you were wondering about the Hermione/Sev thing, it's coming. My characters have just run away from me and are frolicking in the glee of not being controlled by me anymore. I hope to get them back on track and behaving again. I'll be busy these next few weeks but working hard to get at least one more chapter up before I go home for the summer. Then I'll have unlimited time. --Lauren 


	7. Showing Promise

She sat on her bed, thinking about the events of the past month. She'd gained respect from Snape, cut ties from Ron and Harry.things were going well. She was becoming an honorary Slytherin. She knew the password to their common room, spent much of her time there, had become secret friends with most of the Slytherins. she never thought it would happen, but here she was. Just what she wanted.  
  
Well, not all that she wanted. She'd begun to have feelings for Draco beyond friendship. She wanted to be able to be seen with him not get him in trouble for associating with her. She just wanted to be with him.  
  
She sighed. It wouldn't happen, of course. He'd probably rather be with Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode. She'd seen both of them hanging on him at one time or another. 'No such luck, 'Mione,' she thought sadly. 'He doesn't want that. Only the information you'll give him. That's all he wants.'  
  
But she wouldn't stop. She wouldn't stop giving him information, working for him. She wouldn't make his life hard. She wanted to help him in any way possible. Even if he didn't feel the same. She sighed again. It was always worth her time. She felt like a stupid girl, but she didn't care. She wanted to know if he felt the same. She had to meet with him. She got out a piece of parchment and quickly wrote:  
  
Draco- Meet me in the Astronomy Tower tonight at midnight. -'Mione  
  
She only hoped he would meet her there. She wanted to tell him how she felt. Was it wise? She didn't care. She just wanted to get it out into the open. It had been eating at her since the beginning of the term, since she'd come back, and she needed to get it off her chest. Now, if only he felt the same way. she could only hope.  
  
She went to the Owlery and sent the note. Now all she could do was wait.  
  
---  
  
When he got the owl, he folded it carefully and placed it in his pocket. He would meet her there.  
  
---  
  
Dinner and the entire evening went so slowly that Hermione thought she was going to die. She was trying to plan what she was going to say to him, but everything she came up with was just stupid. "Draco, I really like you" sounded sophomoric. She was more intelligent than that. She didn't want to sound like one of those silly notes, the "Do you like me? Check yes or no" ones. She rolled her eyes. What the hell was she going to do? She didn't want to just wing it; she tended to make a complete fool of herself when she did that. She shook her head.  
  
'You'd better think of something, and soon,' she warned herself. 'Midnight will be here sooner than you think.'  
  
She tried to immerse herself in her homework to take her mind off of what she was going to do. Her Divinations book was not doing that. It just made her wish that it was midnight; that she could predict the future. She wanted to be able to know what was going to happen. She sighed. Why couldn't this be easier?  
  
---  
  
He wondered what she had to say to him. Did she have more information? He hoped so. His arsenal was just about depleted. His father was beginning to get on his back about his grades (Hermione was surpassing him, as usual) and his Quidditch playing (Potter was still beating him). He needed to find something to make Lucius happy.  
  
'That's easy,' he thought sarcastically. He had no clue as to what would make his father happy. Well, the death of Muggles and Mudbloods would satisfy him, but Draco wasn't going to kill anyone, nor was he going to have anyone killed. Not a wise idea.  
  
But back to the matter at hand. What was she going to do? Her owls had usually said that she had information for him, but this one hadn't. He really wanted to know. If midnight didn't come soon, he'd go crazy.  
  
---  
  
Hermione left Gryffindor at 11:30, wanting to get to the tower before Draco did. She wanted to have the advantage of position in the room. She wanted to be ready for him when he came in, not feeling awkward coming in with him already there.  
  
She was in luck. She made it before he did. She stood with her back to the door, looking out the window into the dark, clear night. The stars looked back at her, seeming as if they knew something she didn't. They seemed to know what she was doing, what she was about to do. She pursed her lips, still unsure of what would happen. She would find out soon enough, she supposed.  
  
Right then, she heard the creak of the door. She didn't turn. She knew it was him. Who else would come up to the tower at midnight, blatantly disobeying school rules?  
  
She heard his voice saying her name softly, in a tone she'd never heard before, gentle and kind, but she still didn't turn around. She wanted to have the advantage over him; she wanted him to come to her.  
  
He did, momentarily. He stood beside her and looked her in the eye.  
  
"What's up? Why did you call me up here?" he asked, his tone calmly demanding.  
  
She didn't speak. Instead, she turned so she faced him, looked him in the eyes, and kissed him slightly on his lips. She quickly pulled away and turned back to look out the window again.  
  
'Jeez, Hermione, that was stupid of you,' she reproached herself. 'You didn't want to look sophomoric, but you did anyway! Good job!'  
  
When he didn't turn back to her, she knew it was lost, that she'd messed everything up. She turned around and began walking out, hoping he'd stop her.  
  
He didn't. He only turned when he was sure she'd left the tower. The look on his face was more than uncharacteristic of him. He looked positively shocked. What made her do that? What made her think that he would reciprocate? There was no way that he, a Malfoy, could date her, a Mudblood. Not that he wanted to, of course, he told himself. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. That would just be wrong. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? Never. He left the tower shaking his head.  
  
---  
  
Hermione almost flew down the stairs, blinded by hot, stinging tears. What had she been thinking? Of course he wouldn't feel the same; he was a Malfoy, and she a.a.a MUDBLOOD! It could never work. She must have had a temporary lapse in judgment. 'Impossible,' she thought. 'How could you ever think to be so stupid?'  
  
She stopped to catch her breath near the painting of Sir Cadogan.  
  
"What ho, damsel!" he yelled.  
  
She ignored him. He annoyed her.  
  
Again he yelled, "What ho, damsel!"  
  
She turned around, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears, and snarled, "Leave me alone, you awful painting!"  
  
"You're lucky you're a lady!" he roared. "I'd challenge you to a duel if you weren't!"  
  
She turned away from him and slid down the wall, sitting on the cold concrete floor. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed, not wanting to return to the common room. It would invite too many questions that she wasn't willing to answer. Her tears were soaking her hands and going through to her robes, but she didn't care. She didn't want to live anymore. She'd made a fool out of herself.  
  
She heard footsteps coming down the corridor and she pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face. She didn't want to be questioned, though she was almost certain she would be: it was after midnight and she was out of bed. She'd be given detention for sure. She didn't care anymore. She was distraught. She just wanted to be left alone.  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
'Crap,' she thought. It was Snape. Just the person she didn't want to see. She never wanted to see any Slytherin again, much less him. She would almost surely be expelled.  
  
"Miss Granger, might I ask what you are doing out of bed?" His unctuous voice was so sharp it could cut glass.  
  
She didn't answer. She couldn't, even if she'd wanted to. Her tears had consumed her vocal cords.  
  
"I won't ask you again, Miss Granger," he snapped. "Either you answer me or you'll get detention for a month."  
  
She still didn't answer. She was indisposed. She could feel his cold stare and she shivered violently. Her shoulders shook both from her sobs and her shivers. She needed to regain control of her body. She needed to compose herself to answer Snape. She didn't want detention, no matter that she wasn't really a Gryffindor anymore.  
  
"Fine, Miss Granger, you leave me no choice. Your detention will be---" He was halted by another person entering the corridor.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape snapped. "What are you doing out of bed?"  
  
"Taking a walk," Draco responded lazily.  
  
"Well, walk on back to your room," Snape ordered.  
  
Hermione didn't believe this. It wasn't fair! He was also out of bed; he should be getting a detention too! She lifted her head and glared at both of them.  
  
Draco saw her face stained with tears and immediately felt guilty. It was his fault she was upset, his fault that she was getting detention. He wanted to talk Professor Snape out of it. Probably wouldn't be well received, but it was worth a try.  
  
"Professor, it was my fault that she was out here," he started, ignoring the startled looks on their faces. Should he tell Snape of their alliance? It might be the only way to get her out of detention.  
  
"Well. it's like this," he began, looking at Snape and avoiding Hermione's gaze. "Hermione and I-" This was the first time he'd called her by her first name while talking about her. Usually it was "the Mudblood" or "the Granger girl." He continued with, ".we started working together on a, well, project, you could say, last year. We teamed up against Potter and Weasley."  
  
Snape stared at him in disbelief. Draco went on.  
  
"Since Hermione is in their house, they trust her. They tell her things that they wouldn't tell anyone else. She then shares this stuff with me, and, since it wouldn't look right for her to taunt her own housemates, I do it. It's worked quite well, Professor."  
  
"You never got to the part about why she'd out tonight," Snape reminded him icily.  
  
"Oh. I owled her to discuss something about the project. She's been owling me information lately and we're trying to figure out a way in which to use her information.," Draco lied easily.  
  
Snape looked at Draco, at Hermione, and then back at Draco. He paused, and then nodded.  
  
"Carry on," he said shortly. "Just don't let me catch you again." With that, he turned away, his long black robes swirling behind him. He made no sound as he walked away.  
  
Hermione didn't look at Draco. She couldn't. She was too embarrassed.  
  
She didn't have to look, because he slid down the wall next to her and tried to look at her under her hands. He caught a glimpse of her tear- stained face and felt guiltier than before. She probably wanted to be left alone. He rose to leave and she looked up at him, her teary eyes red- rimmed and glistening.  
  
"Don't go," she said in a voice that was barely audible.  
  
He looked down at her with surprise in his eyes. She actually wanted him to stay, after what he'd done.or hadn't done? He sat down on the cold floor next to her. He looked into her eyes and smiled a small smile.  
  
She didn't smile back. She wiped her eyes and looked down. Mumbling to herself, she said, "I don't know what I was thinking. It could never work." She twisted her fingers together and bit her lip. She felt so uncomfortable around him, after what she'd just done and what he did to save her from detention. She stole a glance at him and saw that he had looked away. 'Just as well,' she thought. 'I don't want him seeing me like this.'  
  
He didn't look directly at her, but continued to glance at her from the corners of his eyes. He knew she probably was embarrassed about how she was acting, how she was looking, right now, and he didn't want to add any more to it, more than he already had. Draco still couldn't believe what had happened. He never expected her to kiss him.never. He was so shocked that he couldn't even move for several minutes after it happened. He couldn't have followed her even if he had wanted to. He bit his lip and didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. 'Sorry, Hermione, I couldn't love you'? 'That was a nice kiss but I could never dream of being with you'? He shook his head. He couldn't say that. Not just because it would upset her more, but because, deep within himself, he knew it wasn't true. He breathed deeply and turned to face her. He had to gather up all of his strength and courage for this.  
  
"Hermione?" he asked, his voice not coming out in the way he had planned. It sounded broken and frightened, instead of confident and strong the way he wanted it to.  
  
She didn't answer him. She was afraid of what he had to say.  
  
He placed one hand on her right knee, feeling the soft satin of her robes and her slender leg beneath it. "Please, Hermione, look at me." He felt like he was begging, which was not something he was used to.  
  
She slowly turned her head to face him. She looked a combination of sad and angry. "What? Have you come to tell me you hate me, that you never want to see me again? If that's it, I don't want to hear it." She started to stand, but Draco pushed her back down.  
  
"'Mione, please, listen to me." This was the first time he'd ever used her nickname. She was surprised but didn't show it.  
  
"Please, listen," he almost pleaded. He looked in her eyes and brushed a lock of her hair from her cheek gently. He was surprised at how soft her skin was, even when it was soaked with tears. "I don't hate you. I could never again hate you." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "I don't. I promise." He was digging himself a hole, and it was getting deeper and deeper with each word he said. He didn't know how to tell her that he did feel the same way that she did, that he wanted to see her every day of his life. Words were not forming in his mouth and he frowned. Suddenly he had an idea; he knew how to tell her what he needed to say. He turned her head to face his, leaned in, and kissed her softly on the lips. He rested one hand on her right shoulder, the other still on her knee, and looked at her, trying to convey his feelings without words.  
  
Hermione was shocked. She thought he hated her, that he never wanted to be associated with her. She thought that what she had done was pure stupidity and selfishness and that no one would want to be with her after she had done something like that.  
  
"But.but.you didn't.I didn't think.but." she stammered in disbelief.  
  
He gave her a sheepish half smile. "Yeah.I know." He took one hand and held it in both of his, not speaking. He couldn't think of any words to describe how he was feeling. Her hands were soft, the skin lightly covered in tears. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he could never do anything like that again, that he had feelings for her like she did for him, but no words would come out of his mouth. He sat facing her with a goofy grin upon his face, holding her hand. He was silent, as was she.  
  
Suddenly Hermione spoke.  
  
"I didn't scare you?" she asked timidly.  
  
He laughed slightly, his laugh a bit cold. "Of course not. Would I be here if you had?" His tone sounded slightly irritated, that she wasn't taking this all at face value, that she had to read into things.  
  
She smiled with relief, not hearing the irritation in his voice. She squeezed his hand slightly and then abruptly stood.  
  
"It's late. I have to go." She left without explanation, without saying good night to Draco.  
  
He was confused. Just a moment ago, she was upset that he hadn't said anything when she kissed him, and now she's leaving without talking to him? What was wrong with this girl? 


End file.
